


Nothing breaks like a heart

by ShelleyCumberbabie



Category: Sherlock (TV), johnlock - Fandom
Genre: 221B Baker Street, Baker Street, Bisexual John Watson, Bottom John Watson, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Canon Gay Relationship, Christmas, Developing Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Doctor John Watson, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Gay Sex, Hotel Sex, Hurt John Watson, John Watson In Love, John Watson Loves Sherlock Holmes, John Watson Returns to Baker Street, John Watson's Blog, Kissing, London, M/M, Making Love, Making Out, New Year's Eve, POV John Watson, POV Sherlock Holmes, Paris (City), Possessive Sherlock, Romantic Fluff, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sherlock Holmes and Drug Use, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson in Love, Sherlock in Love, Sherlock's Violin, Smut, Top John Watson, Top Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2021-01-03 00:10:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 104,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21170195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShelleyCumberbabie/pseuds/ShelleyCumberbabie
Summary: John is a wealthy Oncologist who owns a massive hospital in London. After Mary abandoned him, John struggled with creating a new hope in his life. He learned piano, drawing and many other things to occupy his mind. Once he felt that life is coping with him, a mysterious man comes to his life. Sherlock Holmes, a beauty god with stoned heart. And John's heart leaped out of his chest as he started doing his best to shatter the stone shell to touch Sherlock's heart. Will he become successful? Sherlock doesn't believe in Love. Will his belief remain until the end or someone can own his heart?





	1. Chapter 1

John's POV

The phone alarm went off, caused John grunting, rolling his eyes of the sunlight on his face. Few seconds later, he shifted his head on pillow to get rid of the light. He growled, lifting his head and rubbed his eyes before stepping out of the bed. He looked at his phone, checking the messages, nothing hopefully except some Congress invitations. He was on call at hospital last night and turned off his alarm not to disturb his sleeping. He sighed as he grabbed his nightgown and wrapped it around himself before sauntering into his massive black and white kitchen. 

Few years ago, after Mary left him, John earned a prize from bucking-hum palace for his military serving as the best army doctor. he managed to buy a beautiful house and hired an architecture to design it. He afforded buying a nice car and put the rest of his investments into a cancer campaign to support sick kids that couldn't pay for their operation and other procedures. The government entitled a giant hospital with John's name and appointed him to run it.

He grabbed a mug from cabinet and poured water in it, put it in the microwave to get it boiled. He rubbed the back of his neck and yawned as he saw himself in the glass of the microwave. His hair was longer than his usual short army hair in a cool way and he needed to shave his stubble. Brushing his hand on his face till his throat lazily until flinched by the beeping of microwave. He settled a Lipton into the boiled water and opened the lid of his laptop on the counter after sitting with his mug. He read the news online, Scrolling through his emails and looked at the clock.

"Damn it" John muttered as he saw he had only 30 minutes to get ready for work. He put the half empty mug into the sink and rushed into the bathroom after dropping his nightgown and stepping into the hot steamy shower. He ran his hand on his body, feeling the catchy scent of his shampoo all over his body with his eyes closed and parted lips. He felt heavenly good while hot water were wrapped around his stiff muscles. He Brushed his fingers into his hair, getting rid of the tiredness. He brushed his teeth before grabbing his razor and shaving his five o'clock shadow. He preferred himself clean shaven. John still cared for his look even though he avoided any kind of relationship after what he got through with his ex wife, Mary. 

Stepping out of bathroom while a white towel was wrapped around his waist, he dried his hair and ruffled them by his free hand. Combing his sandy hair in a nice form. He put on a pair of black jeans and a navy blue shirt with the last button undone. He wore his black jacket and grabbed his samsonite and car keys, heading out of home into his garage. John's big duplex owned a beautiful garden full of daffodils and purple bellflowers and a pool in front of the bedrooms windows. He took a satisfyingly glance at his flowers and got into his black Bentley, he took a deep breath and fisted his fingers on the steering, closing his eyes, concentrating a bit to review his daily schedule, then roared his car to life and drove off to work. 

It was a cold sunny day after a heavy drizzling from the night before. He changed the stereo into different stations until he smirked tingly at the song 'sway by Dean Martin' that was playing. He was murmuring within the song, tapping his finger on steering, getting sunk into the lyrics. 

'I can hear the sounds of violins  
Long before it begins  
Make me thrill as only you know how  
Sway me smooth, sway me now'

Few minutes later he dialed his colleague by the button on steering wheel and checked himself in his car mirror waiting behind a red light. "Hey, Mike. Don't forget to get the biopsy result of Ms Turner before sending her into surgery room and please don't send Anderson as my assistant resident. He jogs on my nerves. I need to be calm, at least today." insisted John while turned the car to left to park in his own spot in the hospital parking lots. "Good Morning to you too John. I assure you everything will be done as your wish. See you buddy." Mike said before handing up.

John stepped out of his car and went inside. It was a huge fifty two story building, all covered glass and steel. As John walked into the enormous glassy white sandstone lobby, the blonde young ladies with their blue coat and skirt at the reception desk smiled pleasantly at him and greeted John flirtatiously while he nodded reluctantly, without glancing at them walked past to the elevator. They were so young. Sometimes John wished he could get back to his twenties. He pressed a button and the glassy elevator with the scenery of city behind which was a bit intimidating but stunning, to whisk him at terminal velocity to the fifthy second floor. 

John stepped out and immediately pointed at the secretary behind her desk with his index finger for sending him today's patients list and other related procedures like every other days. She nodded quickly as she strode to prepare what John had ordered. She started rummaging bunch of pamphlets with rush.  
John opened his room with his card and stepped inside. 

The very huge room which was illuminated brightly by the scenery of London from the enormous floor to ceiling windows all over the office. Black metallic sandstone and his big modern black wood desk with a comfy semi royal big leather chair behind plus few leather sofas in front of his desk, other side of the room, a matched professional coffee maker with its table was located. Apart from those, the room contained personal bathroom, a big closet for his clothes, his examination room and a Congress room with a giant glassy table and chairs.

He dropped his samsonite on his desk and changed into his white clean ironed hospital gown and sat behind his desk, putting on his glasses as the secretary put the papers on his desk.  
"Thanks, Molly." John muttered while flicked through the papers.  
"You seem happy today Doctor Watson. Having a plan for evening?" blurted out Molly with her usual funny tiny giggling.  
John frowned sarcastically and rolled his eyes. "Don't say delirium, Molly."  
Molly shrugged innocently.  
"Should I start sending the patients in, doctor Watson?" Said Molly shyly, playing with her fingers.  
"Yeah, sure. Just how many are they? I have to check some kids in chemo section as well." John replied with looking at other lists with a hint of scowl.  
"They are six right now and I can postpone others in the afternoon." Said Molly by stepping into the coffee machine to make John's routine coffee ready which was surprisingly Irish coffee with extra foam and sugarless.

"Sounds good, Molly" Said John.  
Molly filled John's cup and gently put it on his desk and headed out to send the patients in while John was laying back on his chair looking at the scenery behind within taking a small sip of his oddly daily coffee, thinking how he got along with his depression and took a big step in his life instead of giving up hope after his divorce tragedy. He felt much better even though he barely talked to anyone except patients because his parents were living in Manchester, Harriet, his sister was a drunk woman who just used to loiter around the city, picking up girls for one night stand and he didn't have any friends. 

The kids from hospital loved John very much. He always cared for them. He loved children because they don't betray and they are honest. He got to the result that he can keep on with this tedious life without dating anyone. It's better than facing another broken heart. Mary left John when he was dealing with his nightmares and his exacerbated mental situation. He was desperately in need of a cared companion to ease him but Mary instead, threw John from her life away when she realized John couldn't insure all her financial problems. She just wanted his money. Of course after John got rich, she showed a few times and implored to get back to him but that was obnoxious for John to live with such a woman like that. He just decided to be alone.

John examined four of the patients, one of them had radiotherapy sessions and came with her weekly check up, the other was a young lady suffering from weakness after the chemo procedure which John wrote some vitamins and minerals for her and then there was a juvenile with blood cancer diagnosis which made John feel terrible for him. 

He made sure to prescribe all the essential tests before the operation and called Molly to usher him the related sections and then there was an old lady with her annual check up result which was a bit talkative and John were aware of her habits. He pretended listening to her but he was rummaging his stuff to find his stethoscope instead. She was giving him advice not to be alone and silly ideas about going to some blind dates until he finds his soulmate. Pathetic he murmured to himself. 

John stretched his arms above his head and waited for the next patient. The door got opened and a lady about seventy two or three came in with a man behind her. John sipped a bit of his second coffee as his eyes got spotted by the man which was obviously accompanying the lady. He was tall, wearing a black slacks and a black matching suit which was hugging his sculptural body fantastically. He was wearing a two unbuttoned dark purple shirt Which was showing his pale skin. He had dark long well groomed brunette curls and thick line eyebrows. John found himself unable to tear his gaze away from those perfectly chiseled cheekbones, his pursed soft cupid bow lips.

He sat with the lady in front of him which made John licked his bottom lip curiously while was mesmerized by the multicolored of icy blue and green in his eyes. He didn't even take a glance at John which made John clearing his throat to have his attention. It wasn't working. 

He was sitting beside the lady and checking his phone after getting sure she was okay with her seat. John's eyes locked on his very long delicate fingers which were tapping on the touch screen of his mobile phone very fast. The man seemed assuming the heavy staring from John's side. He looked up calmly and glared into his face arrogantly but again went back through his phone. 

John envied him. 

He was jealous of him. John could have anything and anyone in his life since he was a multi millionaire man and also handsome enough to bring any girl in his bed but he was envying this man badly with his looks. 

Especially his ignorance was worsening John's suddenly agitated mood. He deepened his scowl at the sight of the neglecting man while furtively puffed his cologne to himself from behind his desk on his shirt. Why did he even do that. The man laid back and put his arm on the sofa after heaving himself a bit and with rolling his eyes precisely at John's tag name on his gown. He moved his emotionless eyes with a squinting look at John. John could see his chest coming up and down steadily from his tight purple shirt. Those eyes were hypnotizingly sharp and piercing even for a man like John that was hundred percent straight. John soon shook his head as the lady started talking.

"Doctor Watson, I've heard your name many times since I got diagnosed this bloody thing but I couldn't afford the expenditure of getting hospitalized here. So I had surgery in some governmental and very small hospital but they said I should transfer here for the past procedures." Said the lady with a soft voice and her kind smile towards John after giving him her medical file.

John nodded politely, took the file and adjusted his glasses upper and smiled tingly at the lady. "You could call our center to inform us about your situation to get free operation Ms-" he yet didn't ask her name. John opened the file quickly and frowned to look for her name. "Hudson" Said a deep smooth baritone voice, dynamic and seductively fetching. His tune could easily control John's mind, very confident. John looked up at the man which was staring at him senselessly. 

"And you are her son?" said John rather with sotto voice. It was like the man had strangled his throat by his sharp glaring. 

"It is none of your concerns, doctor"  
Said the man blankly.

"Oh sherlock! Behave please."  
Ms Hudson said and looked at John with a worried look. "I'm sorry doctor Watson." Ms Hudson insisted.  
"It's okay, Ms Hudson." John replied with a light chuckling. 

Even his name Sherlock was odd. He never had heard such a name like that before. 

Sherlock rolled his eyes like he got annoyed or disgusted of John's calmly chuckling. John already wanted to snap something at him to get revenge of his rudeness but he was out of idea.

"Ms Hudson, your medicines caused your osteoporosis getting a bit worse which should be controlled by a proper diet that i write some tips for you but you are in need of one month physiotherapy for your muscles to be able to protect your fragile bones."  
said John softly, trying just to ignore the man beside her.

"But I can't afford the cost, Doctor. I can't even pay one day here with my pension." admitted the lady by giggling Shyly.

"You don't have to pay, Ms Hudson. This hospital doesn't charge from people with financial issues." John smiled and got up from his seat.  
"My secretary is not here so I'll show you how's the procedure, follow me please." 

"God bless you, doctor Watson." Ms Hudson eagerly stood up. "Come on sherlock dear." Sherlock sighed, following her reluctantly. John leaded the way into the elevator. He pressed a button and stood up beside the man while Ms Hudson was standing a bit further. 

John looked at the elevator mirror, spotting Sherlock's staring from the mirror at him. His glare was like vanquishing him. Stern and intimidating but it had something in it that John was enveloped to it. He found himself flustered, biting his lips faintly at the sight of Sherlock's sharp gaze on him. John tried to stand upright as he could to reduce the height difference a bit. Why all of a sudden he felt this much lost and wasted to a stranger? Especially to a male. John didn't have a logical reason for that.

When the elevator stopped to their designated floor, John walked past sherlock to accompany Ms Hudson. The doctors and nurses were greeting him politely and John nodded to them. 

They went to the physiotherapy section and he introduced Ms Hudson to the therapist to help her describing the process. It was when John was staying alone with Sherlock in the corridor. John furtively saw Sherlock brought out a cigarette to light it up.

Seriously

He took a deep poke and blew it to the air, closing his eyes. John tried to memorize all his details, his long lashes, those perfect sharp jawline, razor cheekbones or his front curls on his forehead that were creating a beautiful contrast with his eyes. Beautiful? John shook his head from his thoughts. The hell is wrong with you John bloody Hamish Watson?

"It's a hospital apparently." John snapped at him.  
"Thrilled you came up with such a big discovery." Sherlock said with his calm deep tune, continued smoking by laying his back on wall.

"It means it's forbidden to smoke here. This is a rule." John's annoyed voice responded him.  
Sherlock turned lightly to John's side and leaned his head to him, opened his lips and blew the rest of the smoke into his face and shifted his eyes few times from John's eyes to his lips and back. He was few inches away from John's face. John's hands were trembling, literally freezing while he could feel the hotness on his face. This man was voodooing him. 

Sherlock dropped the cigar on floor and treaded it with his shoe, a tinge smirking formed on his lips. "Rules are made to be broken." Sherlock almost whispered it into his face and rolled his eyes, sitting on the waiting chairs, laying his head back with his eyes peering at the ceiling. 

John Swallowed after he took a breathe. This man was too strange and by too strange he wanted to study the man more, knowing more about him. "Then there will be no morality."  
John said after few seconds pause.  
"Screw the morality." replied the sitting man dryly.

John tucked his hands into his gown pockets and looked at the floor. "So you're a man without rules. right?"  
said John.  
"Nice deduction, doctor." He folded his hands and looked at John from the under of his eyes. 

Damn.

John's pulse quickened, blood pumped into his vein. He could swear Sherlock had noticed his blushing. John wasn't sure what was happening in his brain for finding Sherlock with exotic words for a man like beautiful or even hot probably. John's eyes inevitably wandered back to Sherlock, finding him staring at him with his blue grayish smoldering eyes. 

Double damn. 

"Then how come you're not arrested yet, Mr breaking rules?" John managed talking.  
"I know the game not to get caught by its rules." Sherlock said.  
"You don't win a game by hitting the ball out of court." John snapped back at him with rasing an eyebrow which caused Sherlock sitting and resting his elbows on his thighs, his hands were collapsing together under his chin, focusing on John.  
"You should rule others before they rule you, doc." Popping the last 'c' more.  
John kept looking at the mysterious man in the front. He could feel blood rushed into his neck and probably into a crimson blush. I don't understand. John opened his mouth to defend himself with something came up in his mind but Ms Hudson's speech halted him from talking.

"Doctor Watson, I already loved the atmosphere here. Everyone is so kind." Ms Hudson cut their glaring, caused John mumble to speak. "I, I'm happy for you Ms Hudson." John said with a tinge smile.  
"I will start from tomorrow then. Of course with the help of this young man." Said Ms Hudson, reaching Sherlock's arm and kindly patted him with a sweet smile that caused Sherlock looked at her with softened eyes. It was so beautiful watching him out of that senseless shell. Beautiful? Again? "Of course Ms Hudson." Said sherlock causing John to conclude that Sherlock is not her son. So who's he then?

"Sherlock is my tenant. He lives downstairs in my flat for few years. I don't know how could I manage living without him. He always help me. I owe him so much, Doctor." Ms Hudson said like he knew the big question in John's mind.

"Well that doesn't suit him much." John replied looking at sherlock with a hint of smirk. Sherlock tilted his head a bit, tightening his eyes on the Doctor in front, causing John already regret his words. Back at it.  
"Once a person gets passed his layers of arrogance, can find who he really is." answered Ms Hudson with a sweet smile that caused John to ponder more about Sherlock's character.

After some instructions and prescriptions from John for the lady back to his examination room, John accompanied them to the exit door of his office.  
"See you tomorrow Doctor Watson. Thanks for everything." insisted Ms Hudson.  
"pleasure is mine. I'll see you tomorrow." nodded John and she headed to leave. John shifted his eyes to Sherlock which was checking his phone. "will I see you tomorrow then, mr rebellious?" He didn't even know why he was trying to have his attention by snapping at him. John never talk to men like this. It was kind of flirting or hitting on someone from John's point of view. John genuinely couldn't dominate his tongue and behaviors toward this man. 

Sherlock looked up at him with a hint of taunt in his gesture.  
"don't be so desperate to see me, doctor. I am a cancer for you." Sherlock winked slightly and left John there stunned.

The rest of the day at hospital, in operating room, his office and in conference he was sinking in his thoughts about the most exotic man that just met today. John was chewing his pen, staring at the table absentmindedly, pretended noticing other doctors speeches but he was just reviewing Sherlock's face, body and his words. His appealing voice or his unconsciously attractive gestures. John wasn't ashamed of himself by his senses turned on because of another man but he was a bit pissed that why he was believing he can't compare himself with Sherlock. This man had much priorities in John's beliefs. When he was in uni, few time it happened for John to find some men absorbing but he never dated them. It was just some bunch of desires that passed from his mind those years. But this time John's senses were triggered by the man to get closer to him. John didn't have romantic feeling or some sort of deep sexual feelings over Sherlock but he was too curious to discover all his secrets.  
"Doctor Watson, are you even listening?" said a doctor with satire.  
"Ye- yes, keep on please." said John haphazardly.

It was half past five when John got home finally. Tired of the day, he ordered some take away from Chinese while headed to bathroom. He needed to ease himself from the busy day at work. Lingering under the shower, thinking he could have children by now. Most people at his age in his zone were having wife and couple of kids. He couldn't endure another break up, on the other hand it was getting unbearable to spend everyday alone.  
He got out of the bathroom, wearing a white shirt and a black pair of adidas pants. He turned on tv and started having some few bites of his dinner. Soon he got bored of the stupid channels. He went through his laptop after putting it on his lap. He searched the novels updated list. He scrolled down and down until his eyes spotted by a novel. 'The man without rules' he clicked to read the description and by that his lips crooked into a grin. He ordered it online. (It's actually a novel by Tyffani Clark kemp. I haven't read it yet but the description made me motivated to read it.)

John put on a music on his gramophone and sat in his giant elegant living room on his couch, picking up his sketch notebook and started sketching something.  
He closed his eyes for few moments to remember his details once again. Yes Sherlock again. He started painting the first lines and sinking to the song and the drawing, finally figured out two hours has passed. Looking at his result, he smiled briefly. He just painted Sherlock's profile when he was laying back on wall, holding the cigarette between his fingers. It was a beautiful detailed chiaroscuro. John had some of his works on his walls. Being single made him more artistic. He closed the notebook and headed out to his piano before getting bed. His usual. 

He touched the kies, feeling them by heart with his eyes closed until something hit his mind or better say his heart to play. 'Born to die by Lana Del Ray' it didn't take a long time until John felt few tears were tracking their way on his face down to his cheeks. His vision got blurry more and more by his watery eyes. He put his head on piano kies, closing his eyes to release his tears. The sky solaced him by starting to rain along with John's tears from his dark ocean blue eyes.  
He missed talking to someone. He missed his heart when it was beating for someone else. He missed the happy John Watson. 

'Walking through the city streets  
Is it by mistake or design?  
I feel so alone on a Friday night  
Can you make it feel like home if I tell you you're mine? '


	2. Chapter Two

John's POV

The next day John groaned, waking up from the couch, his back and neck sore from the bad position. He took a quick shower, deciding to skip his morning tea for a better breakfast at hospital. He got dressed into a dim grey suit and slacks with a black shirt. He left two buttons on, knowing it's hot to women's opinion. John approached his cologne and used it on his neck. He puffed it some more today. 

Why?

He decided to go with subway to get earlier at work. It was a cold breezing in the street. People mostly tended buying new clothes and other things for Christmas which was in next two weeks. John got to the station, he Stood, waiting for the underground to come by at seven thirty. He still had to wait five more minutes. He put his samsonite between his legs on the floor, hands in his pants pockets. His wireless handsfree in his ear, listening to a radio station, he was murmuring the lyrics. A girl in her late twenties was watching John. Looking up at the girl, finding her blow a kiss with a wink cutely at him which made John shook his head and chuckling. Girls these days.

Suddenly he spotted a small girl with a pink jacket in the corner, it's hat on her head, crying quietly while she was laying back on the wall alone. John's heart cringed at the sight of her. The gates of the train got open and John decided to reach over the girl instead. He didn't know what made him preferring to lose the tube for helping an unknown kid. 

He walked past from the people which were coming in opposite direction. He gave speed to his feet and ran to the girl. John sat on his knees in front of her, panting from the running. 

"Hey there, doll. Why are you crying?" John said with a soft voice and sweet smile, caused his wrinkles forming around his eyes. The girl was sobbing, she rubbed her eyes. John's eyes got sad at her innocent tears coming on her tiny little hands. He slowly put his hands on her arms and whispered. "Where's your parents?" John said and by that, the girl dropped her hands from her face and looked at John's eyes with her hazel green eyes and her long wet lashes.   
"I don't have parents anymore."  
John frowned slightly at her answer. Not anymore? Were they dead?  
"What's your name?" John asked softly.

"Rosie" said the girl quietly.  
"Rosie, do you know your home address? Wherever you live?"  
John caressed her little hand with his thumb. He wanted to hug her tight to get all her sadness away. Who could leave such a lovely girl alone?

"My dad told me he couldn't pay for my hospitalization. He left me here and told me I'm not her daughter anymore." Rosie said, she took off her jacket hat, John's heart cringed as he felt the hurt, he almost felt a tear dropped on his cheek. Her head was shaved and her pale skin represented her sickness. Cancer.   
The girl smiled weakly at John, wiping John's single tear on his face.   
John took her in his embrace and wrapped his arms around Rosie, hugging him. The kid was freezing. She hugged John back. Normally kids would reject strangers touchings or hearing their words but surprisingly Rosie was hugging John as if she had knew him for a long time. 

"Come with me Rosie. We can fix this together." John smiled after breaking the hug.  
"You're a doctor?" Said the girl.  
"Yes, I am a doctor." John said.  
"What's your name?" Rosie asked.  
"You can call me John." John replied kindly. The girl brought her hand to take John's hand. 

John smiled sweetly at her, taking her hand. Thinking how can a little girl be innocent and light hearted to trust anyone soon. Life is so simple and happy with kids but Rosie seemed like a mature girl which wasn't spoiled or bad tempered to escape from John. 

John took her with him to the hospital. He entered with her to the building half an hour later.  
They went to the lab beside the physiotherapy room. John brought her a bar of chocolate and a glass of milk. She seemed hungry and dehydrated. 

he took a blood sample from her and other tests that proved her sever blood cancer. John felt rage towards her parents. The way they dumped her on her own just because they couldn't pay for her cure. 

John hospitalized Rosie in a single room in kids section. A big room with a big window and light pink walls. He aimed to buy some toys later for her. She wore hospital cloths and a cute pink hat before laying down on bed while John sitting beside the bed on a chair looking at Rosie fondly. 

"Am I dying?" Rosie asked.  
"Don't ever think about dying, Rosie. You will have an operation soon and I promise you getting your health back very soon." John said. He knew Rosie's type of cancer was something lethal with less percentage of recovery. But he had hope. He promised the girl. He almost promised himself. He was badly affected by this five year old kid. He wished he was Rosie's father. Rosie could change his life if she was his daughter. Like when he planned it with Mary. But the woman wasn't in love with him. All she thought was how to take everything from John and leave him to his insularity. 

"What will happen after I get out of hospital?" Rosie asked, playing with her fingers.  
"I, I don't really know, Rosie." John hated his sentence.  
"I want to live with you." Rosie said with a cute giggling. "We can play and watch cartoons together." Rosie insisted.   
John's heart cringed by hearing that. It was his dreamy life. Having a daughter beside a beloved partner.  
"We will see, Rosie. Now we should only focus to make you healthy." John smiled at her, leaned and kissed her forehead.   
"Will you visit me everyday, John?" Rosie looked at John with her sad greenish eyes and her smiley lips, like Mona Lisa.   
"I visit you every day, Rosie. I promise." John said and put his both finger together as promise.   
"I should leave you to the nurses to get you prepared for your medicines. See you tomorrow princess?" John said.  
"See you tomorrow, John." Rosie replied happily.

John got out of the room, brushing his fingers through his sandy hair, he was in a deep thought whether to find Rosie's father or not or his lists of questions about Rosie's life until his eyes spotted the man at the physiotherapy waiting room, smoking comfortably, looking at the nurse in front of him blankly. Yes. Sherlock. Again. 

John decided walking to him and stood in front of him, causing a shadow on Sherlock's face. He put his hands in his pocket, looking down at the handsome man. His icy blue eyes among his curls. Sherlock's alluring scent swirled around John, made him to sniff deep as if it was his heaven.

"You are blocking the view" Sherlock said calmly.  
"I am the view." John managed answering his snapping.  
"And no smoking here Mr-" John didn't even know his last name. Sherlock poked a deep smoke out and checked John from head to toe that made John having second thought if he didn't zip his pants.

"My name is none of your business, doctor." Sherlock replied calmly.  
"But your smoking is my concern, Mr none of your business." John looked at him, trying his best to be strict.   
"Nicotine helps me to think." Sherlock muttered, looking at the nurse behind her desk with a dirty squinting look. John looked back at her and her grins just faded and looked down quickly.  
"You can use nicotine patch." John answered, he rolled his eyes from the nurse back at sherlock.  
"I ran out of those." Sherlock replied.  
John almost chuckled at the sight of his honesty. "Follow me. I'll give you some before Ms Hudson finishes her session." John said grabbing Sherlock's cigar. His hand slightly brushed on Sherlock's fingers which made John flinched a bit from the electric feeling he felt from him. Sherlock stood up which caused John took a step back. He was so tall. "Lead the way Doctor." Sherlock retorted, looking into his eyes with a shade of smirking. 

John entered to the elevator with Sherlock, pressing the last floor button for his office. An awkward silence made John fidget his foot. "Are you afraid of elevator, doctor?" Sherlock said looking at the London scenery from the glassy wall.  
"Don't Be stupid." John replied, looking at sherlock, finding him raised a brow at John from under his eyes, waiting for a decent answer.

"Wha- what?" John stuttered.  
"Are you afraid of me then?" Sherlock said with a lower tune, velvety deep before giving John another calculated look.

"Who said im even afraid?" John tightened his eyes looking at sherlock, clinging his teeth inside his mouth, with tight lipped.  
"I'm saying. Your pupils are constricted, your lips are paler and you are fidgeting. You must be afraid or nervous." Sherlock said very quickly and monotone in a way that John needed to digest what he has said. He looked at Sherlock's glazed look with wide eyes. 

"May- maybe nervous." John admitted with a taut voice.  
"I don't bite doctor." Sherlock responded.   
"I'm not nervous over you! Why are you feeling so high about yourself?" John retorted, feeling in need of defence in front of this egotistical man.

Sherlock leaned closely to John's face putting his hands on the glass, locking John in between, putting him in his trap. 

"Because.. I am high."

John could swear he felt a twitch in his pants. Sherlock's smoke and mint scent was driving John crazy. He felt a shiver down his spine. His legs were loose, his mouth was slack-jawed. He wanted to surrender himself to the penetrative man in the front. 

I'm not even gay.

"Is this a new way to get off with people?" John said weakly looking into Sherlock's dominant eyes, their face were few inches away.   
"You're the one who showered yourself with cologne."  
Sherlock snapped before sniffing John's scent loudly, making John gulped. He had a mischievous expression on his face.

"I didn't put on cologne for you."  
John answered powerless, gazing at hid bug eyed. 

"Who said you put it one for me? Unless you're admitting doctor." Sherlock acclaimed, his voice dropped into a lothario tune which sent chill down John's spine, feeling the tightness in his pants. 

Fuck a duck. 

John's eyes flared with passion. Their gaze lingered on each other. The atmosphere was getting way too steamy and dangerous.

the door opened, Molly dropped all of her papers in shock by the scenery, Sherlock's face near to John's one, blocking all his angles not to let him move.  
Sherlock rolled his eyes letting John breathe, he treated Molly's papers and exited the elevator impolitely.

"Let me help you, Molly." John leaned to grab her papers. His neck was reddened of blush from what had happened.  
"Thank you, Doctor Watson." Molly smiled, kneeling to collect the papers with John. "Who's that man?" She asked quietly.  
"Believe me I genuinely don't know." John answered, standing and heading out to open his office where Sherlock was standing, his hands in his schick black overcoat pockets with his collars up to his sharp cheek bones. 

Sherlock got inside John's massive office after him. John took off his coat reaching for his lap coat, looking from the corner of his eye, finding Sherlock examining John. Good he wore a black shirt. It suited his silver strands of hair. 

John got back with his white lap coat, he saw Sherlock sitting on his leather chair, his legs on his desk, playing with his stethoscope. His shins and thighs were lusciously formed. Slim and rather muscly. John cursed himself for his dirty thoughts.

"What are you? five?" John rolled his eyes reaching to grab the thing out of his hand, inside he was laughing to his behaviors.  
Sherlock put his hand away not to give the stethoscope back.   
"Plus thirty." replied Sherlock.  
"a five year old child in a thirty five year old male body." John snapped at him grabbing the tool finally which made Sherlock groan.  
"My nicotine patches?" Sherlock said.  
John rolled eyes, reaching for a drawer under Sherlock's legs on desk and put the whole box on the desk.  
"Don't kill yourself with them." John said pushing Sherlock's legs off of the desk.

Sherlock grabbed the box and stood to leave.   
"You are very welcome." John said with his funnily annoyed voice.  
"Whatever." Sherlock said, reaching the door to get out.

John didn't want Sherlock leaving him. He unconsciously enjoyed talking to him even though it was full of taunts and tensions. He liked Sherlock. Like? John liked accepting the challenge with this strange man. John wanted to have his full Sherlock dosage for today. Maybe after all his forty years life, he just now figured out he has interests towards men.

"Breakfast?" John asked spontaneously.  
Sherlock turned back, his hand still on door knob. "Coffee, Black, two sugar." Sherlock said with high speed, he held his hands behind his back and strode to John's desk slowly. John examined his motions carefully. Sherlock undid his overcoat buttons with a hand and threw it on the sofa, looking away, his eyes spotted a chair. He brought it and settled it in front of the desk, sitting with his black fit slacks and his dark blue shirt. 

John headed to make Sherlock's coffee and his own. Grabbing the packed breakfast tray from his small fridge and put it on the desk, sitting on his chair in front of the brunette hair man.

"So you don't still tell me your last name?" John said, sipping his coffee.  
"You think by giving me a cup of coffee, I'm going to tell you my name?" Sherlock sipped his coffee, laying back at his chair and looking at John emotionlessly.

"I just don't know how to call you." said John.  
"Why do you need to call me?" replied Sherlock.

Damn he has answer for every bloody thing. John wanted to punch him and also touch him. 

"Can you for one minute stop being-"  
John paused, he exhaled.  
"Stop being what, doctor?" Sherlock looked at John with a deduction look.  
"an asshole" John said.  
"I can't change myself for your desire." Sherlock replied.

"I wonder how Ms Hudson gets along with your broodiness." John sighed, took a bite from his biscotti.  
"As far as i know, she doesn't have any problem with me." Sherlock simply answered.   
"What about your friends?" John asked.  
"I don't have friends." Sherlock put his little finger into the jam and licked it slowly, trying to memorize the taste. John's semi gaping face was following Sherlock's finger into his kissable lips form. Jeez! Kissable? He was literally looking at Sherlock with doe eyes.

Get it together John. Inside, John was yelling at himself.

"What about your girlfriend?" John asked curiously. Lucky bitch.  
Sherlock put down his cup and leaned, he steepled his hands on desk, looking at John penetrant-ly. John couldn't predict what was in Sherlock's mind.

"Doctor Watson, I don't believe in these bullshits. Girlfriends, boyfriends and relationship." He said them by sounding like they are all stupid.   
"they malfunction your life." Sherlock claimed.

"So you're single." John assured.  
"Doesn't mean I don't have fun." Sherlock said.  
"You are really a man without rules." John chuckled gently, causing Sherlock looking at him and for a moment he smiled at the sight of John. John skipped a heart beat. He couldn't explain how that one second tinge smiling was beautiful. In fact his heart was exotically pounding fast like an arrhythmia. Need to go to a cardiologist.

John was thinking for his next question but he knew Sherlock would say 'it's none of your business'

"Ask it, Doctor Watson." Sherlock said, made John astonished how he can read his minds.  
"What do you do for living?" John asked.  
"I'm a photo model for some clothing magazines. Photographers are constantly interested in me." Sherlock answered.

"Sounds cool. I like photography indeed. I do it for fun sometimes."  
John said, with a interested voice.  
"You're attempting to say that you want to take photo of me?"  
Sherlock said bluntly.  
"Well, your face is photo takable somehow." John said, playing with the handle of his cup, not daring to look forward into his eyes.  
"You're saying I'm good looking then." Sherlock said, frowned artistically at John.  
"No I just said your face is proper for photo shoots." John quickly said, trying not to let him know that he adores his face.   
Sherlock studied John's expressions, both of them were drinking coffee in silence. 

"You don't have any questions, Mr ruleless?" John broke the silence once again.  
"What do you like me to ask you?" Sherlock said putting on his overcoat after standing up, looking down at John.  
"Anything" John shrugged.  
Sherlock did his buttons, ruffled his hair with his hands and after a pause opened his mouth, looking at John's eyes.

"enjoy the life without building walls for yourself."  
Sherlock said.

"It didn't sound like a question." John said with a smile.  
"It was my note to you, doctor." Sherlock said and without any farewell left John alone in his office.

John soon rushed into his personal bathroom, looking himself on the mirror. He was totally flushed. Damn it man. He was a bad teasing man. John's heart was still pounding fast. He opened the faucet and washed his face few times with cold water, brushing his wet fingers through his hair. He inhaled and exhaled few times until he felt his heart beat got steady. Maybe after all he wasn't hundred percent straight.

John remembered when he served military, he had some sexual attraction to other soldiers when they were showering every morning but he thought maybe it was because of lack of intercourse and a life without women. Actually meeting Sherlock fully clothed was even more enticing than those muscular broad-shoulders army guys.

The rest of the day at hospital was quite exhausting. He had two big operations and checking the hospitalized patients in ICU, then teaching his interns and residents such as stupid Anderson about some cryptic syndromes.  
It was five when he tended going home. He furtively went to see if Rosie is doing well. She was sleeping, a serum containing lots of drugs was connecting under her skin. She was deep asleep with a hint of pleasant smile. John's hand leaned on the doorway, capturing Rosie's long lashes moving in her sleeping. He smiled, feeling his tiredness reduced. 

John decided to took a long walk back to home since he didn't bring his car out. He strode the streets and looked at the happy couples, taking each other's hands, talking happily with few sacks in their hands, preparing themselves for Christmas. John kept on walking until he got stopped by a toy store. He smiled merrily and stepped inside. He bought many things. He wanted to decorate Rosie's hospital room. She was special for him. 

Sun was no longer in the sky when John got home. In his porch there was a small pack with Watson name on it. He came inside, unwrapping the paper, grinning at the contain. 'The man without rules' the book he had ordered.  
At least tonight wouldn't be boring for him. he first made a mack and cheese for himself, opening a can of beer, sitting on his favorite couch in living room. Reaching his laptop, he brought bing and typed English photo modeler Sherlock. The search engine completed John's typed words. Holmes. John's lips crooked into a victory smile. "Sherlock fucking Holmes." John murmured. He pressed the search button and it brought lots of results. He went to image searching. 

John gulped as he brought the laptop closer to himself. Sherlock's jests and figures with those super expensive clothes on behalf of rampant brands. He was stunning. Extraordinary. John couldn't tear his gaze at Sherlock's sexy attitudes in each shoot. John couldn't disguise his attraction toward Sherlock from himself. Sherlock, a super handsome man with exotic personalities. To John, Sherlock was a big clandestine, a hard shell that its password was too hard to break. John needed the code to his heart. Why Sherlock wasn't believing in love? What made him rejecting having any kind of relationship? John closed his eyes, thinking while Sherlock's picture was illuminating John's face from the laptop. He suddenly opened his eyes.   
Yes. That must be the reason. 

John didn't like accepting any new relationship because he was once badly hurt. What if Sherlock had a terrible experience in his love life before? What if someone broke his heart and it didn't heal. instead, it turned into a stone. The stone layer is protecting the broken heart inside not to shatter more than what it is already. 

How could anyone break such a man like him? John shook his head, thinking if Sherlock was interested in John, he would do anything to make this man happy. Wait a sec. Really? But Sherlock wasn't into John nor into anyone else except some temporarily fun time as he said. Probably some one night stands and next day no sign of sentiments for the person that he slept with.

John closed the laptop, reaching his piano after pouring a glass of expensive old red wine for himself. Putting it on the top of the piano.   
"I know you want me to play with you." He muttered to the piano. "Just tell me which one, darling?" He said, semi drunk from the amount of beer and wine he got.   
"You bastard with your pretty face and electric soul." John chuckled gently as he started dancing his fingers on the kies until the pleasant melody repleted the House. 'Music to watch boys' John sang quietly along within his hands touching the white and black Kies.

'I, I see you going  
So I play my music and watch you leave  
I like you a lot  
Putting on my music while I'm watching the boys  
So I do what you want  
Singing soft grunge just to soak up the noise  
Blue ribbons on ice  
Playing the piano, only one of my toys  
'Cause I like you a lot  
No holds barred, I've been sent to destroy'

John gave up playing when he felt something buzzed in his pocket. He grabbed his phone and opened the message. 

Don't you dare cross your boundaries, Doctor Watson.

John read it three times. Who sent such a message like that. It was almost a threat. What had he done to deserve this warning? What wrong step did he take? John was confused. He decided to ignore it. He took his book and headed out to his bedroom for a night reading before getting to sleep.

Next day John was sitting in his office, being occupied with some bunch of papers due to his annual charity for sick kids suffering from cancer. He was reviewing the agenda if anything must get changed. He heard a knock on his door. "Enter." John muttered while his full attention was on the paper. Door got opened and by the clicking sound of the hills, John deduced it was no one rather than Molly Hopper.

"Yes, Molly." John murmured. "There's a big fight in the physiotherapy department." Molly pointed out. "And since when I'm working as security hospital guard?" John blurted out, his eyes still focused on his papers. "I thought you might want to know who started this mess before the guards throw him out." Molly answered ironically. John dropped the pen on the paper before taking off his glasses and looking at her secretary with a hint of scowl. 

"I'm all ears." John insisted. "That strange curly haired man which yesterday was in elevator with you just broke Doctor Anderson's nose couple minutes ago." Molly said quickly as if someone was chasing her. John's jaw literally dropped, his eyes were froze. "Jesus... Sherlock Holmes." John almost whispered. "take me where they are right now." John stood abruptly and Molly accompanied him to where the fight was happened.

When John entered to the therapy sector, he saw Ms Hudson was talking to a guard nervously, on the other hand, he saw Anderson bleeding from his nose while he was standing pissed off. Honestly it was kinda a relief for John as Anderson was always a pain in the ass for John. This was when his eyes spotted the only calm and egotistical man in the room. 

Sherlock fucking Holmes. 

John sighed. "What's going on?" John asked with semi anger, causing Ms Hudson stopping from cutting the head of the guard with her chattering. 

"This Psychopath just broke my nose." Anderson said within holding his nose with a handkerchief. "First, it's high functioning sociopath and second, I didn't broke your nose. I just dodged from your punch. You hit yourself to the wall, idiot." Sherlock muttered steady tune but too fast. "Enough, Mr Holmes!" John demanded loudly. Sherlock's icy blue eyes shifted on John which made John regretting for his yelling.

"What was this bloody fight for?" John asked Molly. She opened her mouth to speak but got interrupted by the curly haired man. "I was waiting here for Ms Hudson to get done with her therapy and this moron kept telling a patient that her tremor in her hand is mentally while it obviously is carpal tunnel blocking in her hand." John couldn't even believe how Sherlock knew such a medical diagnosis like that. He was gazing at the arrogant man with owe. 

"And doctor Anderson got mad when Mr Holmes said you're a pathetic doctor. He aimed to punch Mr Holmes but he got bumped to the wall." Molly finished Sherlock's speech which caused Sherlock hummed satisfyingly. 

"I don't understand." John murmured gapingly. "You should put that on a T-shirt." Sherlock dryly responded as he earned John's glaring.

"Since when a bloody doctor in my hospital hits the roof instead of diagnosing a problem correctly?" John glared at Anderson sternly. Words failed Anderson. Sherlock smirked slightly. John turned his head to him after pointing at him.  
"And you Mr Holmes, jack of all trades and master of none! Save your thoughts for yourself from now on." John claimed. Sherlock rolled his eyes, his smirk just dropped. "There is no room for error in here, Doctor Watson." Sherlock said.   
"None of your cheek, Doctor Holmes." John snapped at him. Molly snorted slightly. John glared at her and she immediately bit her lower lip and looked down. 

"Anyway I am a plaintiff of him." Anderson said with whining from his nose. "Weakest dogs bark the loudest." Sherlock muttered after took a glance at Anderson in disgust. "Mr Holmes." John insisted. Sherlock shrugged. "Don't tear your hair out, Anderson. Molly, please do some dressing on his nose." Molly nodded as she obliged Anderson to stop protesting by taking him out of the room. 

"Ms Hudson, I've a word with Mr Holmes if you don't mind." John said, Ms Hudson smiled sweetly. "It's okay, I'm still not finished with the session, doctor Watson." John nodded politely and looked at Sherlock by arching his brows back. "After you." John pointed the exit way with his hand to Sherlock. He growled in disagreement as he strode to walk with John.

"I wasn't born yesterday to hear your preaching." Sherlock said when John brought him to his office, where many patients were sitting outside the office, looking at them suspiciously. John closed the door and gazed at Sherlock. "I'm not like Ms Hudson to hold your dear. This is hospital and you literally treat as it's your flat. You smoke like a chimney here and fighting with a doctor in duty. 

"Then who was happy to see that pathetic doctor's bloody nose while ago?" Sherlock snapped, gazing back at John while he was looking at him from above. John tried not to break into a laugh. Sherlock was right. John enjoyed seeing Anderson like that since he had done marathon on his nerves million times. 

"Well I must say i give you full marks for that this time." John failed, his lips crooked up into a deep smile which made Sherlock fierce staring getting softened as he smirked smugly and walked to John's enormous room. He opened the partitioned glassy door of John's conference room. "Interesting." Sherlock muttered with his deep voice. "Curiosity killed the cat." John snapped at him, walking to where Sherlock was observing. Sherlock pried at John. "Actually you're more a cougar rather than a cat." Sherlock pulled the door closed as he locked it while his penetrative gaze was making John flushing deeper. 

"What was that for?" John stuttered. Sherlock clicked a bottom as all over the glassy window of the conference room became blur. John gulped. 

Have I watched this before? 

This man was too strange. Sherlock pushed one of the chairs away and sat on the glassy long table, one of his legs on the chair while the other was laying on the floor. 

Probably watched it in a porn.

"Let's have a conference." Sherlock's dirty look alarmed John what he meant. Maybe he was wrong. Sherlock Holmes couldn't be into guys, even if he was, why John Watson?

"If you'd excuse me I've got patients to visit, Mr Holmes." John said, he cursed himself knowing how crimson he looked at the moment. Sherlock theatrically poured his lips.  
"What a pity. We could have long detailed conference here on the table together, like those hard talks." Sherlock said as he stood and in a sultry, breathy voice whispered to John's ear. "Good day, doc." It just drove John haywire, he could feel the tightness in his slacks as Sherlock left the door open and exited from his office while the whole conference room was promulgated with his divining scent. 

John wasn't an idiot but he still was thinking if this was only a sarcastic comment to snap at him rather than being a flirtatiously convo. Sherlock couldn't be gay, at least not over John. He was way too good looking to have anybody in his bed. John sighed, deciding to give himself few minutes to ease himself from his turned on situation to be able to examine the patients.

Later when John was about to got home he got called by a feminine voice. Of course John perfectly knew this voice belonged to whom. "John! John! Wait up." She said as John sighed, turning back to face with the owner of the voice. "Hello Mary." John reluctantly said, looking stone cold at the blonde woman in front of him. "Hi, John. Long time no see." She faked a smile. Years ago John could kill to see her smile at him but now everything was clear for him that Mary was there just to pick up some lines to have John's money. He never ever loved him for himself. 

"There isn't any reason to be in touch, Mary." John replied, playing with his keys in his hand. "But I've missed you very much, John." Mary said in a quieter voice, dazzling at him with her bluish eyes. "I'm wondering if you could saying this three years ago." John smirked bitterly. "John, I'm very sorry. I just want you to give a second chance to prove my honesty to-" John interrupted Mary's speech. 

"This relationship is rotten to the core, Mary and I'm not your jackpot to get hit whenever you wanted to." John pointed out angrily. "But John-" "Knock it off, Mary." John stopped her again as he entered to his home and slammed the door close. He couldn't stand listening to bunch of lies. 

Later John sat in front of the window with a cup of tea, watching the rain coming down cats and dogs as John decided to close his eyes, reviewing his day. The smug and clever handsome man which has occupied his mind most of the days.

Next day John told a nurse to take Rosie for some minutes out of her room with some excuses until John can decorate the whole room.   
John stuck lots of beautiful matchable stickers and dolls on the walls with the help of her one and only secretary, Molly. They put a lot more Disney dolls on her bed. He also had bought lots of toys and a big pink kid dressing table. As they finished, he took a look at the result.   
"Doctor Watson, I'm sure Rosie will love her room." Molly admiring the view with a wide smile.  
"I guess so. Thanks Molly." John looked at her loyal secretary, wrapping his hand around her waist and looked at the room. 

He was thankful for having such a helpful and kind hearted secretary for years. Molly was even something more. She helped him few times when he was in his suicidal mood after breaking up with Mary. She wasn't a type of talking person or too friendly because of her sociopath personality but Molly stealthy was taking care of his doctor. And of course John was always behind her when she was broken hearted with her short lasting relationships.

"I'm going to bring Rosie." John claimed.  
"Good luck with that doctor Watson." Molly said, her thumbs up and giggled. 

After checking up few sections, John found Rosie with a nurse in hallway, sitting on a chair with her serum tube in his hand. John smiled, clearing his throat cutely.   
"I've heard there is a beautiful princess in this hospital. Can I steal her?" John said to the nurse beside her, faked hasn't seen Rosie.   
"John!" Rosie screamed in happiness, hugged John's waist. John leaned and hugged her up. "How are you beauty?" John asked looking adorably at the girl.   
"I'm fine. Aunty Molly gave me a lollipop earlier." Rosie said.  
"Thanks to Aunty Molly then." John said sheepishly.  
"She's not your aunt, John!" Rosie laughed.  
"Well, Yeah. Thank god." John said sarcastically. "I have a surprise for you and after that we can eat breakfast together."   
Rosie nodded in excitement. John held her tiny hand and took her behind her bedroom door.  
"Close your eyes and don't open them until I say, deal?" John said.  
"I promise!" Rosie answered.  
John opened the door and leaded Rosie to get inside a bit and he kneeled behind her. "You can open your eyes now." John said softly as Rosie opened her eyes. She grabbed her mouth, surprised of her room. She ran and touched every single things. She turned back and hugged John tightly, wrapped her arms around his neck.   
"You are the best John! I love them!" Rosie said loud and happily.  
John chuckled. "You are very welcome princess. You should eat something first and then you can play with them." 

Rosie nodded gladly and took John's hand. They went to the main self service buffet to eat something. John entered while he didn't let Rosie's hand go. John grabbed a plate and chose an American breakfast for himself. Pancake with chocolate syrup and his coffee and for Rosie a bowl of cereal and a glass of orange juice. They sat on their chairs after putting their foods on table. John started eating his pancake, looking at Rosie contently, feeling fresh.   
"Your lips are full of chocolate souse, John." Rosie said, she was giggling, looking at John licking his lips funnily with his eyes imitating a funny gesture. 

"I do believe no one will take my orders from today with this silly look." John said, laughing deeply with Rosie until his eyes met the man sitting on few tables further.   
John's grins just faded. It was Sherlock. He was sitting with a newspaper in his hands and a cup of coffee beside him. He took a glance at John and simply rolled his eyes back to his newspaper. Oblivious, like always.

"Who's that man, John?" Rosie asked curiously.   
"He comes every day here for his landlady's cure." John answered.  
"He's cute." Rosie said, smiling.  
"You think so?" John asked, he raised an eyebrow at her.   
"Yeah, you should ask him to be your boyfriend." Rosie said simply. Could the world be as easy as Rosie's mind? John wished it was working like that.  
"What made you think I like guys, Rosie?" John asked.  
"You looked at him like lovers look at each other in the movies." Rosie said with her mouth full, caused John chuckling.   
"You know way too more than your age." John said.   
"You like him?" Rosie asked.  
"I don't know, maybe. But I don't think if he wants to be with a guy."  
John answered disappointedly, looking at the ignorant Sherlock.  
He was wearing a dark denim coat, azure shirt and a pair of matched jeans. He was alluring.   
"Have you liked a guy before?" Rosie asked, John shook his head. "Still I can't believe why I feel like this towards this man." John said.  
"It's worth a try, John. Don't lose a chance easily. Maybe he thinks the same for you." Rosie said.   
John was also thinking how can a five year old child be this much clever and appreciating.

"Okay, I go and ask him out now. You sit here till I'm back, okay?" John asked Rosie, standing up from his seat.  
"I promise. Good luck John!" Rosie said with zeal. 

John walked past from few tables until he approached Sherlock's table, sitting in front of him.   
"I don't remember if I have asked someone sitting here." Sherlock muttered, his eyes fixed on the newspaper. Senseless as always.

"Good Morning to you too, Mr Holmes." John snapped at him.  
"That's creepy." Sherlock said.  
"Excuse you?" John asked confusedly.

"That you were talking to a kid about me." Sherlock closed the paper and looked up at John with his piercing eyes. John gawked. How could he know since they were whispering without glancing at him obviously.

"How is Ms Hudson doing?" John tried to change the subject.  
"You can ask her yourself in an hour."  
John sighed.   
"Sherlock, What's your Problem with me?" John frowned slightly at the man while Sherlock raised his brows at him.   
"I'm not your bosom pall to call me by my first name, doc."   
"My apologies. Let me start again. Mr Holmes what's your problem with me?" John said sarcastically.  
"You are sitting at my table without my permission." Sherlock claimed.  
John smirked and leaned a little bit closer.   
"Apart from that, are we okay?" John asked softly. Sherlock looked into John's dark blue eyes suspiciously.  
"What do you want to say by that, doctor?" Sherlock asked with his deep voice.

"I want to ask you out for dinner." John finally said. He felt his heart bursting out of his chest.   
"I don't go on dates." Sherlock answered, interlocking his hands together on table.

John had prepared himself for such an answer. He cleared his throat and smiled confidently with a sly look.  
"You don't go on a date? Okay. Just count this as a normal dinner with a stranger then." John suggested.

Sherlock separated his hands, with one tapping fingers on table and other on the back of the chair. He deepened his gaze on the Doctor.  
"What's the benefit to have dinner with a stranger without earning anything?" Sherlock said.  
"It's not earn-less to me." John answered, he licked his lower lips as his habit. Sherlock's eyes traveled to his lips and back to his eyes.

"If you want to hook up with me, you can ask frankly, doctor. I told you. I'm into having fun." Sherlock said, almost bit his lips, caused John inhaled deeply without exhaling.   
His lips were so soft and kissable. John could imagine, brushing his own lips on him, kissing him hard as both of their lips swallow. Sherlock was suggesting him for an one night stand. John didn't want that. He didn't want Sherlock for a bloody night. John would love sleeping with him. But what was the point to have sex without any mutual emotions.

"I'm not tending to get into your pants, Sherlock." John said, took a tissue from the table and grabbed his pen from his front pocket of his hospital lap coat, he wrote his phone number and pushed it gently on Sherlock's side then stood up.   
"If you changed your mind, keep me posted, Mr Holmes." John said, winked at him subtly and left Sherlock before letting him protest.

John took Rosie's hand and left the giant room. Rosie was looking back at sherlock with a sweet nimbly smile, causing Sherlock staring back with parted lips and a written tissue in front of him.  
John's number and a small note:

Don't rule yourself.  
JW


	3. Chapter three

John's POV

John was watching Rosie playing with her dolls. He was sitting beside her bed on a chair. His mind was occupied with earlier. He was sure that Sherlock wasn't interested in him. And from now on, John would feel stigmatic every time he sees Sherlock at hospital. He could adjust his program not to coincide with ms Hudson's physiotherapy time. 

"He will come." Rosie muttered, looking at her toys.  
John blinked some, managing to come out from his thoughts, looking at her.   
"What?" John asked.  
"I said, he will come with you." Rosie answered with her small silky kid voice.  
"How do you know?" John asked, looking at her with a tinge smile.  
"If he won't, he is stupid. And he doesn't seem stupid." Rosie replied.  
John chuckled slightly.   
"Do you wanna bet over it, young lady?" John raised an eyebrow funnily.  
"Okay. If I win you should take me to Disney land when I discharged from hospital." Rosie said quickly.  
"And if I win?" John asked, his hands were crossed.   
Rosie shrugged, waiting for John to talk. John leaned a bit.   
"It's a surprise." John said, winking cutely.   
"Deal." Rosie said, giggling.

After two semi hard operations and rounding patients with his residents, John headed out to the childcare department. He has decided. He wanted Rosie. He wanted to experience how does it feel being a dad. John knew having Rosie's custody requires taking a lot of responsibilities. But maybe it could make the doctor's broken heart pacified. Rosie was dealing with her hard life while John could survive her and indeed they both could be each other's new start of a better life.

He got leaded to where he had to ask his question. He knocked and entered the room. There was a middle aged woman behind the desk.

"What can I do for you, sir?" The lady asked politely, taking off her glasses.  
John cleared his throat, started speaking.

"genuinely I found a girl few days ago in station. Her name is Rosie Moriarty. I found her while her parents abandoned her, knowing she is sick. She is diagnosed by Myeloma, a very malignant type of blood  
cancer. I'm her, well I'm her doctor and want to know if I can, you know, be his guardian."  
John rubbed the back of his neck, he was nervous to hear the answer.

"Sir, we should be sure if her parents are inauthentic to take care of her and then we can give you guardianship." The lady answered, looking at John directly.

"But they just left her and told her that they are not her parents anymore. How can they be authentic to raise her?" John said with a bit anger, pissed at the parents and at the phlegmatic attitude of the woman.

"Look. You should find her parents and talk to them, convincing them by a written evidence that they don't have any problem with you taking care of the kid and then there would be a tribunal to verdict whether you're capable or not."   
The lady answered and went back to her papers. John sighed. "That's insane! They don't even bloody care about their daughter. They are more than a thread rather than parents!" He yelled, blood rushes into his face. He brushed his fingers into his hair and reached for exit door, the lady was blankly following John's walking. He slammed the door firmly and emerged from the office. 

It was ridiculous. He was wealthy with a proper job and single without any child from his marriage. He could take care of Rosie in the best way. Those bastards who left Rosie didn't even deserve to give approval. What if they even hurt her, what if they had harassed her so far? Rosie was a introvert kind of kid, her eyes were revealing how much pain she had endured by now.

John got in to his car, driving off to where Rosie said she was living with her parents together. He parked and sneaked around to see if there would be any person near the roofless warehouse. It was dark and empty inside. No doors and just few ruined walls and cartoons.  
John leaned on his car, hands in his pockets. It was horrendous. Rosie must had a terrible life. This place in a skid raw could only work for addicts and felons. 

"What the hell are you doing here?" Said a male voice.  
John turned his head around, seeing a man with short hair, brown eyes and filthy attires, almost same height as him. But something was wrong. His face and hands were tidy, no obnoxious scent and he owned a organized white teeth. Could it be even possible for an addict or an intruder to be like this?

"It's none of your business."  
John answered with a scowl.  
The man spat his cigarette and held John's collars before slamming him hard to his car.   
"You bloody doctor don't know who I am but lemme tell you something."  
The man was speaking behind his teeth, fisting his hands on John's collars firmly, causing John holding his breathe.

"You better back off from that girl or I snap you in two!" He said and got off of his collar and disappeared soon when he heard the sound of few fellas loitering around.   
John rubbed his throat and tried to gain his balance. His back was aching. Who the hell was he? How did this man know he's a doctor? Was he Rosie's father? John didn't even find any moment to ask him. 

He took in his car and put his head on steering. He wasn't scared but the man's loathing glaring was still in his mind. John managed roaring his car to life and driving home. He rushed into his bathroom, opening the faucet into the highest degree. He needed hot water easing him. He laid his back to the wall and stood naked under the hot water. If he left Rosie alone, why does he give a shit about who's taking care of her daughter? John was confused and clueless. The man was lurking in that warehouse as if he had expected John.

John saw a flash behind the shower curtain. He leaned and picked up his phone among the smog. An unknown number. John wanted to ignore but superego obliged him to decide against it as he cleared his throat and hit the button.

"John Watson." John said, with a breathy croaky voice among the pounding of shower on bathtub. There was silence for two seconds until he heard a voice. 

"Doctor." said a deep tone. A smoky familiar voice. Soft spoken and modulated. John's breath caught slightly in his throat. It was him. It was Sherlock Holmes.

"She- Sherlock. Is that you?" John said in a tremulous voice.  
"Obviously." Sherlock answered.  
"I thought you wouldn't call." John said, sitting on the edge of the tub, water dropping on his bare shoulders.  
"Are you in the shower?" Sherlock asked, he sounded quietly this time which creeped heat through John's private area.

"Yes, I am. I get used to bring my phone to bathroom." John said, gripping the handle of the tub.  
"Sounds provocative." Sherlock retorted blankly.  
"bringing phone in the shower is provocative?" John asked, a smile crooked his lips.  
"Nah. talking to a doctor under the shower is provocative." Sherlock answered, made John bit his lower lip.

"Well does this provocative shower doctor has any chance tomorrow evening?" John asked like a coquet.  
"221B Baker Street." was Sherlock's answer. John grinned slightly.  
"I'll be there tomorrow evening at 7"  
John said, his zeal was obvious in his voice.  
"Have a nice long shower doctor." Sherlock teased before hanging up.

bastard. 

John murmured to himself. He decided to wash finally, endeavoring not to touch himself other way. It's been 3 years since he had sex. John didn't sleep with anyone after Mary. He literally forgot how to get turned on until this man. This penetrating man. He ignored his slight erection, causing by that catchy voice. 

After drying himself, he wore some clothes and got out to buy Christmas tree and decoration for his home. He still cared about spending Christmas with the rituals even if he was alone.   
He bought a big tree, proper with his living room size, some decoration stuff for designing it, some for his fire place and the main door. He then bought pizza for himself and headed back home.

He turned the radio on, it was playing some old Christmas songs. John started adjusting the tree in the corner of his living room few meters away from the fire place. a bit biting from a slice of his pizza along with hanging the decoration on the tree. John spun the light string around the tree, another one among the fireplace shield. He hung a flower ring on his door. 

John opened his novel after he cleaned up his giant house. The more he read the more he was assuming about Sherlock. The man had lots of similarities to him. John knew some stuff from Sherlock without asking him. He knew his favorite color is blue due to his attire tasting on internet. He knew Sherlock probably had a heartbreaking relationship before. Searching through net made John deduce that Sherlock loves dogs or assuming he has an older brother.

John couldn't see Rosie since tomorrow was Saturday. He had to wait till Monday. He had already missed her. She was very clever. Somehow Rosie brings Sherlock in his mind. Both smart and affective to John with beautiful sparkle in their eyes.

He could imagine living with Sherlock and Rosie in a house. The three of them were healed from their grieves and were happy together. Two beloved parents with their lovely daughter. This would be heaven.

John's phone buzzed, he picked up the phone.   
"Hey Molly. Everything's alright?"  
John asked. Molly wasn't the type of person who calls regularly.

"Hi John. Yeah, everything's fine. I called you to tell you that You can have sometimes video call with Rosie from tomorrow. I, i thought it would be hard for both of you not meeting each other for two days."   
John was listening in disbelief and glad.  
"Molly, do you have any idea what do I want to do to you right now?" John said, excited voice.  
"I hope I am not fired." Molly giggled.  
"No I want to hug you tight." John chuckled. "Molly, I'm very thankful to you." John added with a deep smile.  
"The least I could do. Now tell me what was that man doing in your office again?" Molly asked curiously.

"As you know his name is Sherlock Holmes. He gives her landlord company for therapy session. We accidentally met up multiple times." John said.

"Aha. And I guess you accidentally fell for him, right?" Molly teased.  
"Don't Be silly! I'm not in love with him. I just kinda like him. But he doesn't believe in relationship." John answered bit disappointed.  
"Then prove him he's wrong." Molly answered determined.  
"I'm gonna have dinner tomorrow with him. Any tips for a man that hasn't dated anyone for three years?" John asked.  
"Just be yourself John. You are a great man and don't need to wear any mask or pretend." Molly answered.  
"Thanks Molly." John smiled.  
"Just tell me everything detailed after your date." Molly insisted.  
"I'll tell you and to him it's not a date but a dinner with a stranger." John chuckled.  
"Whatever it is, you're in charge to tell me. Glad you finally figured out your hidden interests towards men. Good night doctor Watson." John shook head, hung up, he was a bit stressed out. He slumped back more against his sofa. 

Next day got started with a heavy rain shower. The raindrops were hitting the window, creating a catchy rhythm while inside, pleasant warmth were spread through the house, making John laying supine, stretching his arms in his royal king sized bed with tall black pillars at each corner. His eyes fluttered open. As dark sky before the storm, wild as the ocean during one. Dark sapphires which could trap people's sights, searching in them for ages. He rubbed them, clearing his vision as he decided to got up. He brushed his disheveled sandy alabaster hair, looking at mirror. He smiled weakly. A hope coursed through his veins and caused him deepened his smile. He put on his nightgown, emerging from his massive bedroom.

John sauntered to the kitchen, checking up the refrigerator, he immediately spotted a plate of brownies. he took it out and poured a glass of cold milk, deciding to having a change in his breakfast. He opened the lid of the laptop, brushing his hair and adjusting his shirt not to be messy. John pressed video call. He knew by now Rosie is awake and has eaten her breakfast. 

A cute little girl with deep pink hat popped on the screen, happy hazel green eyes, shimmering some amber lights in them.   
"Good Morning John!" Rosie Said loudly, excited to see John on screen.  
"Good Morning to you too sunshine." John smiled brightly.   
"You look cute in those clothes." Rosie giggled.  
"That's the first time I've heard cute for a forty year old man like me." John frowned funnily causing Rosie laughing.   
"Tell me how are you." John said, gazing at the screen. 

"I'm very good. A nurse took a blood sample from me after breakfast and told me I'm gonna have another chemotherapy for two weeks and then they take me for surgery."  
Rosie said, a tinge shade of working was in her cracked voice.  
John gulped, his smile just faded, knowing how perilous is that disease in her. He deepened his grip on the lid of the laptop, resisting not to cry in front of her. Instead he faked a smile.

"Rosie, listen to me. You're gonna get your health back soon and I'm gonna take you to Disney land since I lost our bet." John smiled sweetly at her which Rosie widened her eyes.  
"Oh my god! He accepted! Mr Sherlock will come! I knew it!"  
John chuckled.   
"Yes, he comes tonight. And I hope I don't screw up and for your information I have still my surprise for you." John said, he winked.  
"You are a surprise in my life John. My dad was very cruel to me but you treated me like I'm-"  
Rosie paused looking away. She was afraid if John wouldn't like that. John frowned and leaned a bit. He could feel her feelings on the other side of the screen.  
"You are my daughter." John whispered what was stuck in his heart. A tear dropped on his cheek. He wanted to hug her tight.   
Rosie smiled and touched the screen in disbelief.  
"Does it mean that I can call you daddy?" Rosie asked innocently.  
"Yes. God I was dreaming this. Say it Rosie. Say it again please." John insisted. Eager was gleaming between his wet eyes.  
"Da- dad. Daddy I Love you." Rosie said with a wide smile on her pale skin, making John smile.   
"I love you too princess." John said, lingering on each word, it felt amazing knowing someone loved him back.

"I should go. It's my medicine time."  
Rosie said disappointedly.  
"Take care Rosie. I'll see you tomorrow. Okay?" John said looking precisely at the screen.  
"Okay daddy. And tomorrow tell me about Mr Sherlock." Rosie giggled.  
"I promise." John assured and they ended up the call.

John sniffed, wiping the corner of his eye, he felt amazing. He got called dad by Rosie a while ago. It felt heavenly good. It motivated him more to do the legitimate process to take Rosie's guardianship. 

It was six that John decided to get ready. He climbed upstairs, to his cloth room, a big room with jet black marble stoned closets from ceiling to the black glossy tiled floor with few tall mirrors. He opened a closet and looked at his suits. John had reserved a high priced fancy restaurant in London which was very famous for its exquisite services. He didn't want to be too much formal but he couldn't go there casually. He opted to skip tuxedo or any ties and bow ties. Rummaging the hangers with a hint of scowl until he hummed at what he saw. That works. He muttered.

It was a black three-button Yves Saint Laurent custom-tailored suit with its slacks, coming with a black shirt and small black stoned cuff links on the wristbands, which had a proper sheen reflectivity. accommodating with a matched leather waistbands by same brands. John put them on his bed, headed out to bathroom. He got sure he's clean. He put on some products on his hair after dried and combed it well. He could still smell his after shave. He wore his outfit, the suit was fantastically hugging his curves. John put some cologne on his wrists and neck. He grabbed his car kies before leaving home to his garage.

From John's home was ten minutes driving to Sherlock's flat.   
He stopped by his apartment. A cafe restaurant beside it. John liked the atmosphere. It looked like a cozy scruffy flat which made John motivated to see the inside. 

The 221B door got opened, John tightened his eyes to see who's coming out. It was him. Sherlock spotted John in the car. He walked relaxed even though the rain was heavy. He reached the door and got in, made John's nose got saturated by his scent. A wood and mint cologne. He was wearing a black suit and slacks with a white shirt and two buttons undone. It was probably one of those sponsored brands that Sherlock was working with them. Those clothes were exquisitely showing his absorbing shape.

"Hey." John managed to say in almost quiet tone. It was like he was losing his powers in front of this man. Looking at Sherlock's beautiful profile. Few raindrops were making his curls shiny.  
Sherlock unbuttoned his coat and looked straight blankly after laying back at his seat.  
"Evening doc." Sherlock answered, heartlessly.

John pushed the gas pedal and drove off after Sherlock fastened his belt.   
"I actually have a name, Sherlock."  
John snapped.  
"I love formality." Sherlock retorted, looking at his window side.  
"Nice car by the way." He admitted.  
"Thanks." John answered.

"How was your day?" John kept on the conversation to avoid awkwardness.

"Uneventful, Boring." Sherlock answered. John nodded.  
"How did you guess it's a formal date?" John blurted out.  
Sherlock smirked. "First, I didn't guess, I knew. Your voice was revealing it behind the phone. And last, it's not a date for me doc."   
John hummed slowly, he was disappointed inside.

Sherlock's eyes glued to John's face from his side car mirror. John spotted Sherlock from the mirror, he was mesmerized by those crystal silver blue eyes, sinking to Sherlock's stern look. Not the electric shock paralyzed him or crawled under his muscles, but the kind that made his blood dance. None of them gave up tearing their gaze from each other from that mirror until he heard a loud horn, Sherlock immediately turned the steer to right. John was just frozen, gaping at the front to see a truck crossed beside them. 

"I'm still too young and beautiful to die." Sherlock's long fingers were still on steering wheel beside John's hand.   
John smirked and rolled his eyes.  
"Even when I was your age I wasn't that egocentric." John snapped. He gained his confidence as he kept on driving.

"And when I was your height, I wasn't that careless." Sherlock snapped back.  
Mr punchline has answer for every single bloody thing. John's thought was hitting his mind. He shook his head and grinned. 

"You're only five years older than me. Don't effort to be advisable to me." Sherlock uttered gently. John deepened his smile.   
"As your wish, Mr Holmes." John said, caught Sherlock's faint tilted lips.

Few minutes later they reached to their destination. John gave his car to the restaurant security to park for him. They got inside. 

Big chandeliers with dim lightening, wooden carving chairs and tables, deep mahogany walls with randomly placed foot mirrors, Lana del Ray crooned softly in the background. It was very romantic. A blonde waitress leaded them to a table for two. John and Sherlock both sat. The waitress  
Settled the menus gently for them before leaving.

John looked at sherlock. He kept his supercilious gaze through half-lidded eyes, which had heyerochromia, the blue, green and gold yet made them beautiful. Arrogance and curiosity were mingled in his facial expressions. John realized he was still staring at him, judging by the faint smirk on Sherlock's cupid bow lips. John looked at the table embarrassingly before clearing his throat.

"I hope you like here." John said softly.

"It's a nice place." Sherlock traveled his gaze back to John.  
"And I hope you're not on those strict diets like what some models do." John said, looking through the menu.   
Sherlock smirked slightly, skimming the menu quickly before closing it.  
"I'm a male photo model for magazines not a Victoria Secrets cat walker." Sherlock claimed, it made John chuckling.   
"Fair enough." John answered. wrinkles forming around his yale blue eyes, causing Sherlock's eye contact penetrating on him. 

"You're nervous doctor." Sherlock deduced, kept ruling John by his gaze. John tensed his muscles around his closed mouth, he felt getting red ears. 

"I'm not." John lied naively, glancing away and back at sherlock.   
Sherlock raised a brow, his eyes piercing into him, causing John sighing in defeat.

"It's my first time dat- going out for dinner with a man." John paused.   
"In a non platonic way." He added.  
Sherlock leaned, with steeple hands under his chin. "Calm down, doc. You're doing fine." Sherlock said softly. John's eyes trapped in the shape of Sherlock's lips. 

"Too shy to call me by my name?" It popped out from John's mouth suddenly. John didn't know how brave all of a sudden he became to snap such a thing to the Greek god in front of him.

Sherlock made a lopsided grin, leaning closer until John could feel his breaths hitting his face.   
His scent was divining. John peered into his irises, his flickering azure orbs as he felt electrical chill running down his spine, making his body numb, like ice.

"Shyness is not in my area, John."  
Sherlock whispered, lingering on John with a breathy voice, sent shivers into John's body. John enjoyed hearing his name from Sherlock. Sherlock's hypnotizing gaze was fixed on John. There was a dead silence between the two near faces until the waitress cleared her throats, made John coughing and laying back on his chair.

"May I have your orders?" She said, looking at Sherlock and John.  
"A sirloin steak cooked medium, béarnaise sauce if you have it and green vegetables." Sherlock said without looking at the menu one more time, made John stunned at his good memorial functions. 

"Make that two and please bring me the wine list." John said sullen but chastened.  
The waitress nodded politely and disappeared. Sherlock's penetrate gazed were literally paralyzing John's mind.

The girl came back with a black leather framed list, handed to John.  
"Would you like to choose the wine, Sherlock?" John asked, rising his eyebrows at him expectantly without any arrogance personified.

"Avid to try your taste, Doctor." Sherlock said, teasing. John blinked some, examining how professionally he made a pun intended. 

"A bottle of Barossa valley Shiraz, please. John said and she muttered sir and went back. John caught Sherlock's gawking at him.

"Don't look at me like I'm idiot, Sherlock." John said, soften eyes with humor.  
"Then don't look at me as if I were a conjuror." Sherlock snapped.  
John chuckled. He liked his prepared answers. 

"Tell me how did you meet Ms Hudson." John asked.  
"Apart from modeling, Im keen on being detecting crimes sometimes. Few years ago I helped Ms Hudson's husband got insured executing and as reciprocation, she rented upstairs of her flat to me under price." Sherlock replied. 

"You seem caring about her very much." John insisted, made Sherlock losing his smug attitude.  
"I owe her." He said quietly.  
"May I ask why?" John asked curiously.   
Sherlock looked at him.  
"She saved me when I was thrashing about in pain, speaking of pain. She's the only one who saw the worst of me." Sherlock replied, looking at the Serviette. John's smile faded. His eyes saddened at the sound of him. Sherlock must had a very rough time. Maybe something similar to his experience. 

"I'm sorry." John said gently, Sherlock waved his hand away as its not a big deal.   
The waitress came back with their wine and another waiter with a tray of food, putting them on their table before leaving them.   
They started eating, John felt less awkward.   
"When did you get divorce?" Sherlock asked, eating from his fork, looking at John.  
"Jesus, how do you know?" John asked astonished.  
Sherlock grinned. "I told you. I'm good at these things."  
"It's been three years" John answered, sipping his wine.  
"She left you." Sherlock squeezed his eyes a bit. John nodded.  
"Yeah she left me for someone better." He chuckled sadly.   
"But she has come to you a few times, asking if she has second chance." Sherlock deduced, causing John gaping, looking at him wide eyed. Dear lord.

"She left me when I wasn't in a good financial situation. I was also very depressed. I begged her not to leave me but she didn't care. Then I committed suicide, twice." John said, taking up his sleeve, he had a deep old scar on his wrist. Sherlock's eyes locked on his wrists for few moments. No one could read his face. The only thing John could distinguish was Sherlock's none sardonic face. He had no smirking on his lips nor ironical eyes.

"What made you not succeeding in your suicide?" Sherlock asked, looking back at him. 

"Molly saved me each time. She's the secretary at my office. I owe her so much. She encouraged me to restart my life, so I participated therapy sessions. I started learning different languages, music instruments, painting and even photography to find hope once again. And then Mary showed up, knowing this time I'm a wealthy man, she insisted to be with me again. She still offers sometimes." John smiled sadly.

Sherlock cocked his head slightly, pressing his index finger to his cheek and propping his chin on rest of clenched fingers, focusing on John's facial expressions.

"I loved her so much. I did everything to make her happy. But I can't be with someone like her anymore. There's no love remained."  
John said, sipping his wine.

"I see." Sherlock said, tweezed eyebrows and sharp eyes, earning his vanity again.  
"That's why I don't believe in love." Sherlock claimed.

"Not everyones like each other, Sherlock." John said, soft and preserving his sad smile.

"You didn't sleep with anyone after her. You don't believe what you said yourself ,doctor." Sherlock leaned back with scrutinized staring at him.

"Or maybe I was the one who didn't fall for them." John said, smirking with a raised brow at him.

"You could have fun, with the maximum of pleasure." Sherlock downturned corner of his mouth.

"It can't satisfy my desires, Mr Holmes." John snapped.

"What satisfy you then?" Sherlock asked, narrowing his eyes tingly, moistening his lips with tongue.

"The one that doesn't satisfy you." John wanted to examine his reaction. Apparently Sherlock hated relationship and entitled any relationships bullshit.

"There is no such a thing like that in real life, John." Sherlock said, steadily.

"Who knows?" John raised his both eyebrows with a sweet smile causing Sherlock lingering his gaze on him.

"Why didn't you go back to war?" Sherlock asked, sipping his wine, as he was looking at John from the glass. "An injured soldier with PTSD isn't a nice choice for war." John said, glancing up at sherlock. 

"You don't have PTSD, John. Random nightmares and depression made your silly psychologist deciding that." Sherlock defended. "Jesus, how the hell do you know about these?" John's mind was blown. "No need to know. Just by seeing." Sherlock answered, leering his eyes at the sandy haired man. "You just saw them all in the first time we met?" John asked, Sherlock nodded briefly.  
"Okay, tell me how did you see." John said, Sherlock smirked faintly. "You are the first person who is keen on what does matter." Sherlock said. "I take that as complement." John raised an brow. 

Sherlock tilted his head, darting his eyes back and forth between John's attired and his face. "Look at you, Here is a gentleman of a medical type, but with the air of a military man. Clearly an army doctor, then. You've just come from the tropics, for your face is still dark, and this is not the natural tint of your skin, for your wrists are fair. Good three years had remained some tanned shades on your skin. You had undergone hardship and sickness, as your haggard face says clearly. Your left shoulder has been injured. You hold it in a stiff and unnatural manner. Where in the tropics could an English army doctor have seen much hardship and got his arm wounded? Clearly in Afghanistan." Sherlock's fast and monotone deep voice blurted out, sinking John into his tune and those sky blue eyes.

"That.. was marvelous." John breathed. Sherlock frowned First then a simple sweet smile formed on his cupid bow lips. 

John looked at another table, spotting a young blond lady in a décolleté red dress sitting with a man in front of her. 

"Lemme try." John said, Sherlock's eyes sparkled in joy, perhaps finding John's suggestion interesting. He took a glance for 3 seconds as he looked back on John, he already must have known about the girl. John kept staring at her with narrowed eyes.

"That girl right there, about her late twenties, constantly changes her position, seems like her dress is not comfy." John arched back a brow. "Maybe the man opposite her which is almost fifteen years older had just gifted her the dress. She wants to impress him, obviously because of money. Little white hair all over her dress, showing she has a cat. It's not dog because Mary had a cat with same hair as she has on her dress which I'm allergic to it. Fidgeting her leg, she wants to rush the date to go back home." John looked back at Sherlock's eyes with a twisted lips into a naughty smile.   
"Because She is married. Unconsciously touching her ring finger to play with ring while there isn't any ring on." John licked his lower lips as his usual. 

Sherlock bit his lower lip, squeezing his eyes until the corner of his eyes crooked up, John could see his eyes were blazing in amusement. "Glad not to waste my time with another stupid man." Sherlock's velvety voice blurted out. John's smile fell. "That's the best you could say?" John asked. "Believe me, it's the highest complement I've ever given to a person." Sherlock paused. "By the way." Sherlock leaned a bit. "She's rushing to get into his pants and later tonight the man will lose lots of money." Sherlock pointed out them as John looked at them finding the girl touching between the the man's thighs with his heels under the table. His eyes widened, blinking some as he turned his gaze back at Sherlock with a tinge blush on his cheeks.

"In that case we should do something." John murmured, Sherlock frowned within a smirk. "Common, that prick deserves some failure." John rolled his eyes briefly. 

A modern jazz pop french music started replacing the chattering in the restaurant, judging by the singer's accent, John deducted a Belgian singer was singing it. He took off the handkerchief before resting it on the table as he stood up, causing Sherlock raising an eyebrow in curiosity. 

"Saving the day, Superman?" Sherlock said ironically.   
"If you observe, its night so I'd be tonight's nighteing." John acclaimed proudly. "You humans are all the same, don't pretend being unique, monsieur le docteur." Sherlock tilted his head slightly, looking up at John devouringly whitest sitting. John lingered a bit as he chuckled slightly, the french song was captivating the atmosphere. "Oh, how perfectly the song is defining you, Mr smog." John winked before adjusting his tie as he walked out to the table where the girl was sitting. 

John furtively checked Sherlock out as he found him grinning by staring at his phone screen, seemingly checking the lyrics translation. You deserve it. John told internally.

John decided win the night by impressing the dark brunette haired man. He pretended passing by the girl's chair as he accidentally poured the white wine bottle on her thighs, causing the girl jumping slightly from her seat while the man she was dating was only in lack of motion to react. 

"Oh my god! I am very sorry Mademoiselle! Lemme help you cleaning the mess." John kneeled on his knees, spotting Sherlock on the glassy segment of the girls bag, he was checking John's butt out.

Cock.

"It's okay, you don't have to.." John looked up at the girl, causing her leaving her sentence unfinished, which was enough for John to figure out she was german. Oh and she likes me? Older man Fetishized. 

"Meine Ehre Fräulein." John stated gently, making a deep smile plastering on the girl's lips. John wiped the liquor from her thighs softly, he intentionally brushed his hand on her leg before lingering it there. "May I borrow your date for a small dance, sir?" John politely asked, the man was semi pissed at John but he pretended being cool by nodding with a fake smile. 

The girl enthusiastically held John's hand as they came up in the center which was nearer to Sherlock and John's table. 

The music twirled like thread around them. The girl rested her hand on John's chest, and let him sway her body 'round and 'round.  
"du tanzt wunderschön." John whispered into her ear as he earned a giggle from the girl. He slipped his hand into his pocket as he rapidly typed a note in his phone.

"Du auch." She replied, John delivered a sweet smile, endeavoring to flirt. He wished Sherlock was as easy as the girl. "Wie alt bist du?" John asked. The girl shifted her gazing to John's lips which was John's purpose to distract her. "Twenty nine, you?" She asked, John held the girl closer to his body as John put the mobile on the table, causing the man spotting it before grabbed it and read the note. 

'Your date aims to rob you, sir.' 

"I'm forty, Schatz." John licked his own lips. Sugar daddy Watson? Disgusting. John nagged to himself.

,Vous les hommes êtes tous les mêmes  
Macho mais cheap  
Bande de mauviettes infidèles  
Si prévisibles, non je ne suis pas certaine, que tu m'mérites  
Z'avez d'la chance qu'on vous aime  
Dis-moi "Merci",

(Song: Tous Les Mêmes By Stromae)

Their movements flowed with a dazzling grace that took away the breath of every person in the audiences.   
The young woman's celestial eyes shone a flash as she placed her delicate hand behind John's head, brushing his back hair with her nails slightly digging in, John placed his hand on her waist and whisked her on the dance floor and they turned and twirled as if they were professionals. It was when John's eyes locked on Sherlock which was gazing at John. His penetrative staring, his hand holding his chair firmly and his chest heaving up caused blood rushing to John's spine. Was it jealousy? John didn't know to enjoy his victory or cringing for the attractive man sitting and watching him dance. He managed grabbing his phone from the man's table. The man was now sitting stiff, probably sad at knowing the reality.

'Rendez-vous, rendez-vous, rendez-vous au prochain règlement  
Rendez-vous, rendez-vous, rendez-vous sûrement aux prochaines règles'

As the song came up to the end, John kissed her hand. "May I have your number? I bet we will be hotter in bed." Her gaze was locked on John while John was staring at Sherlock.

"sorry hon, aber ich will nicht mit Diebe rummachen." John acclaimed, he walked out to his table, leaving the girl in gawking, witnessing Sherlock's lips twisting up in a tinge sly smirk, definitely aware of the convo. "Nice dance, John." Sherlock hummed. "Glad you liked my ass." John teased Sherlock, making him chuckle mildly until the sound of yelling from the next table halted them. 

The man shouted harshly as a glass got broken, the girl abandoned the place with crying. "How romantic." John muttered. Sherlock nodded with smiling. "You're entertaining, Doctor." Sherlock decided, wiping his mouth with the Serviette. "I guess your previous accompanies were bunch of boring octogenarians then." John joked. "Shut up." Sherlock snorted.

They ate the rest of their meal in a pleasant silence and John ordered desert while Sherlock avoided any since he doesn't have sweet mouth.   
John talked more about his life, Sherlock explained some of the cases he had solved for Scotland Yard and his modeling career to John. He told John that there's detective inspector which deeply believes in Sherlock, he most of the time asks desperately for help. 

Later, John offered to take a walk before getting back to the car which Sherlock surprisingly agreed.

The rain was over, the asphalt was yet wet. There was a road with beautiful torch lanterns both side of it. The end was leaded to a vast short safeguard with the scenery of Thames river.  
John was striding beside Sherlock, amble walking along with each of Sherlock's steps.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Sherlock murmured, looking at the clear sky full of shimmering bright stars.   
It was genuinely beautiful.

John looked up and stunned of Sherlock's comment on that.  
"I thought you wouldn't care." John said.  
"Doesn't mean I don't appreciate it." was Sherlock's replying.

John wanted to take his hand. It was awkward walking with his hands in his pockets. He wanted Sherlock to know he likes him. John's left hand was out of his pocket, skeptical whether to reach for Sherlock's hand or not. He was scared. This man doesn't allow any sentiments taking care of his stoned heart. There was a low volume song playing from the speakers on the standing lights. John was challenging with his hand and the emotions coming from the lyrics. It was like the singer was defining his sentiments.

'Find light in the beautiful sea  
I choose to be happy  
You and I, you and I  
We're like diamonds in the sky  
You're a shooting star I see  
A vision of ecstasy'

"You're struggling with something, John." Sherlock uttered, glancing back at John. John chuckled calmly, admiring Sherlock's cleverness.  
"You are my struggle kinda" John declared.   
"Don't scramble with your thoughts. Do what you want, Doctor Watson."   
Sherlock said, both stopped by the end of the road, behind the shields, watching the scenery. The song was pitching all along to John's ear.

'When you hold me, I'm alive  
We're like diamonds in the sky  
I knew that we'd become one right away  
Oh, right away  
At first sight I felt the energy of sun rays  
I saw the life inside your eyes'

John locked his sight on the river, bringing his hand shallowly and put it on Sherlock's hand which was resting on the shield. John's hand was so warm. Sherlock's hand was soft and freezing. Sherlock didn't expect that, he turned his head to see John's face. John was smiling, still fixing his gaze on the front view. 

'So shine bright, tonight you and I  
We're beautiful like diamonds in the sky'

"Don't worry my touch isn't ultraviolence to break your boundaries." John said, his hand was still on Sherlock's hand, running his thumb on his silky skin to fondle it.  
Sherlock traveled his gaze from John to their hands. 

'Eye to eye, so alive  
We're beautiful like diamonds in the sky  
Shine bright like a diamond  
Shine bright like a diamond'

"I'm afraid I don't have any boundaries to be able to appreciate your sentiments." Sherlock said, stern but softly.

John smiled deeply. "You can appreciate the beauty of starts."  
"So what?" Sherlock frowned slightly looking quizzical at John's calmly face.

"If you see the world from a star point of view, you'd just see darkness. But it keeps hanging bright until burns. It burns to illuminate around as if someone is brighting there for it. When there is no one, it bursts, bursts of loneliness. The beauty that you see is its painful ending."  
John expressed in undertone, soft voice while his dark bluish eyes were interlocking with the sky.

Sherlock's gaze didn't tear John's hand on his, his pupils were steady.   
"This is like to sacrifice for no one." Sherlock muttered slightly, taking his hand away from John's touch into his pocket.

"It's nature. To burst alone or with another star." John rested his hand on the fence, feeling the lack of  
Sherlock's hand underneath it.  
"Just like humans. To die alone or with the loved one." John said, looking at Sherlock. 

There was a silence between the two of them for few moments. Their gaze met each other's. John felt drown into his eyes. It was like all the myriad shades of blue swirled together to form whirlpool of apprehension. John wanted to surrender to those deep eyes, he wanted to touch his heart, bringing the man back to his emotions. John could smell Sherlock's sweet musk between his wooden cologne. His curls waving on his forehead. John could feel he was lowering the space between them. Sherlock was voraciously looking at John, too close as they could feel each other's breath. 

John stood up his toes, cupping Sherlock's face softly with his hands slightly trembling at the amount of emotions captivating him. He closed his eyes to feel Sherlock's soft kissable lips with his own until two hands gripped John's arms, holding him still, stopping him from crashing lips together. John opened his eyes, his pupil were dilated, seeing Sherlock was the one stopping him. 

"I don't kiss, John." Sherlock whispered. John was exploring into both his eyes confused.  
"I just fuck." Sherlock popped the last syllable more. John nodded, let him free of his touch.   
"Okay tough guy. My apologies." John managed smiling somewhat.   
Then why he didn't avoid John from where he held his face? That was teasing or skepticism whether to accept his lips or not? Lots of questions attacked John's mind.

"It's getting late, shall we go back to the car?" John suggested.  
"Definitely, Doctor." Sherlock raised a brow, looking pride, sounding confidant.

They got into the car. John started to drive. There was a silence until John chose a station to fill the awkward silence between them. John couldn't own his lips except his heart. John was pissed at himself. Why did he like this man very much? His dark soul was hidden by his flamboyant appearance or that fetching voice.

He was sunk to his thoughts until the song brought him to reality. 

'I'm giving you a nightcall to tell you how I feel  
I'm gonna drive you through the night, down the hills  
I'm gonna tell you something you don't want to hear  
I'm gonna show you where it's dumped, but have no fear'

John looked at the car mirror, finding Sherlock's head tilted downward, staring vacant at his fingers. John's brows pulled together, monitoring the semi sad and quiet Sherlock. Suddenly John felt urging to hug Sherlock. He wanted to share his feeling with him. To show him he's there for Sherlock. He wanted to do something. But it wasn't possible. Sherlock didn't want any lenity.

'There's something inside you  
It's hard to explain  
There's something inside you, boy  
And you're still the same'

The dark road, two silent men sitting, probably a chaos inside them listening to London's grammer's song was the only thing connecting their thoughts together.

"Sherlock, I wanna deduce you."  
John said, bringing Sherlock from his thoughts. He looked at John's profile and then at front.  
"The field is yours Doc." Sherlock answered.

"You are musician. Your hands are indicating that." John said, causing Sherlock crooking his lips into a smirk.   
"Go on." Sherlock said avidly.

John hummed, narrowing his eyes on the road, tapping his hands on steering. "It's not guitar from the form of your fingers. I'd say piano or violin." John claimed. Sherlock deepened his grin.   
"You're pianist yourself." Sherlock said.  
"Does it mean you're violinist?" John asked, glancing at Sherlock.  
"Yup." Sherlock responded.  
"Let's make a Band, then." John chuckled. Sherlock sneered.  
"You are jack of all trades, Watson."  
Sherlock said, more friendly, less egotistically.

"You haven't seen my abilities yet." John said turning the car into left with a hand.   
"Is that a threat doctor?" Sherlock asked with a dimpled smile.  
"More like a promise." John answered, stopping the car behind the red light in traffic.

"I'm keen on your magical fingers."  
Sherlock's flirting made John biting his lips.   
"Which one do you prefer?" John asked maintaining eye contact with Sherlock, opened mouth with tip of his tongue showing, leaving Sherlock into his deduction whether it is a teasing or habit.

"Do a portrait of me." Sherlock said, while delivering his cheshire cat grin and gleaming eyes.

"I'd love to. But you should come to my place in case you want one. My stuff are there." John said, driving the car off by seeing the green  
Light.

"I don't see any problem in that." Sherlock simply said.  
John grinned with alacrity.  
"You good with tomorrow evening? I can make dinner." John said enthusiastically.

"It works for me. Do i need to bring something?" Sherlock said.  
"Bring your ass on time with a bottle of your favorite wine." John snapped, Sherlock chortled loud.   
"Sunday evenings are not good to get drunk, doctor." Sherlock stated melodically. John laughed euphorically.   
"I don't intend to get drunk unless you make me befuddled." John remarked.   
"My treat." Sherlock sniggering, making John leering at him.

Half an hour later they reached to 221B Baker Street, in front of Sherlock's flat.   
John looked at sherlock, his hand on steering. "I really enjoyed tonight Sherlock. Thanks for accepting to come." John smiled softly.  
Sherlock opened the door, getting off, closing and bending his head to the window, looking at John. 

"I enjoyed it too." Sherlock winked. "See you tomorrow, John."   
"See you tomorrow Sherlock. Good night."   
John smiled adorably at him, waited till sherlock entering to his flat. He drove off to his home.

As he got into his home, he stepped into his bedroom. Taking all of his clothes off, wearing his night gown. He was deadly tired. He crawled into his bed. John got to know sherlock better. It was a fantastic night for John. He knew Sherlock was at least a bit interested in him, otherwise this too blunt man wouldn't waste any second, spending time with the one that doesn't feel good. John also knew Sherlock sooner or later will reach to John's pants and after a hot sex will leave him forever to the next person. 

This was John's biggest fear. He didn't want to lose him. John didn't blame Sherlock for rejecting kissing him or avoiding dating him. He saw him by that emotionally sad face for seconds in his car. This man definitely has a heart but It's lost in darkness. He needs to find his star. John chose Sherlock to be his star and he wants to burn for him. He fell for him. Fell? John's inner yelled.   
Why not? Fell in love with a man   
who turned off his emotions.

Before John's eyes fluttered closed and going into a deep asleep, he felt a shadow behind the curtain but there was no energy left for him to acquire what was it.


	4. Chapter Four

John's POV

As sanity returns, John opened his eyes and gazed up into the ceiling. His expression was soft, tender, bearing his head into his blanket one more time before sitting up, dragging himself off of bed after some scrambling. He dislodged his pillow, made his bed properly.  
As he absentmindedly reached for the knob, he realized today is a big day.  
Unintentionally, John's heart started pounding at a increasing rapid pace, made his drowsiness fading utterly.  
He should clean the house, speaking of house, better say palace. Plus he should go for shopping to make dinner himself. He should represent himself in a proper way to Sherlock.  
I shouldn't screw up. John's thoughts were dominating from his mind to his body until he figured that he was sitting in his kitchen with a cup of tea. When did I even make this bloody tea? John shook his head, blinked some and decided to skip finding the answer and drinking his tea. 

Going back to his bedroom to get ready, he saw a piece of paper on the floor behind the curtain. John bended and picked it. He opened the tugged paper as his eyes spotted the note.

"Passing the red line kills you soon doctor"

John read the note four or five times. He couldn't even guess who had written such a thing like that. The windows were locked. How can anyone comes into his super secured house? And the most important thing was what has he done to deserve such a threat like that. John crumbled the paper as he put it in the drawer. This shouldn't mess with his perfect day ahead. Maybe someone just poked fun of him. John grasped a deep breathe and shook his head to come out of his thoughts.

An hour later, John changed into his black adidas tracksuit before heading out. He brought out his bike out of the garage, opting for burning some calories since Sunday is the only day that John could be capable of some self caring. John loved cycling. He felt chilly breeze stroking his face gently while some feeble sunlight rays were emitting among the colossal grey clouds. A proper whether before another rain or snow. John leaned his bike on a wall, entering to the supermarket. He grabbed a cart and literally bought everything double. Even some unnecessary stuff. As long as money wasn't a deal for John, he filled the whole cart, paying and told a worker to send them to his address. 

On the way back to home, a flower shop spotted his eyes, made John getting inside it. He wanted to show his feeling in some way to Sherlock.   
A middle aged man was pruning some roses in his hand. The catchy scents of numerous flowers there were captivating John's lungs. 

"Hi. um, I, well I actually need your opinion to buy few bunch of flowers." John said timidly.   
The man took a glance at John and back to his flowers.  
"Is it for a she or a he?" The man stated calmly.  
"He." John answered.  
"How close you two are?" The man put the scissor away and looked at John.  
"Well, I like him I guess. But the problem is he doesn't feel emotionally way for me or maybe to others." John smiled coyly and looked at the flowers around.  
"So let's make you win his heart then. Shall we?" The man chuckled amicably and walked to the corner while John nodded with a smile.  
"It's my wish genuinely." John murmured in a way the man heard and grinned.

"A crimson magenta paeonia illustrates your passion and a deep purple hibiscus clarifies the amount of your pure feelings towards him. Their scents are completing each other. I put some from both for you. Try to put them in a glassy vase if you're the host."  
The man said, setting the branches.  
"How do you know?" John said stunned within chuckling.  
"In a date night out usually people come to buy with their prepared outfit before seeing their date not by a tracksuit sir." The man said.

"You're right. I hope it works." John smiled, paying and taking them after the man wrapped them around a paper, giving them to him.  
"It will work even if he doesn't say anything. All you need is just a slight knowledge of reading facial expressions." the man said, thumbs up.  
"Good idea though."  
John shrugged innocently and thanked him before heading home by  
his bike. 

He gave some tipps to the worker with bags in his hands, in front of his door. John settled them properly in the fridge and put the flowers in a crystal vase before placing it on the coffee table. He started cleaning the house meticulously. He changed the bed sheets into another new black one in case sherlock sneaks around to his room according to his detective and deductive manners.

John knew he didn't want to sleep with Sherlock tonight. Whenever dirty thoughts of having sex with Sherlock hit John's mind, he immediately rushed to wash his face with cold water and drinking some of it. John was aware of his sexual tension for Sherlock. He could imagine how mind blowing Sherlock's touchings would be. But he was also aware of the consequences. He didn't  
want to lose this man. It was a tiny aspiring in his heart as if he can change Sherlock's mind by impressing his heart. John planned to impress Sherlock other way than his arousal over him. Being different than Sherlock's previous one night stands. 

After cleaning the whole house, setting new air freshener and  
Watering the flowers in his garden, John headed to his kitchen, peeping around his fridge as if he can decide what to cook. Something came up to his mind which caused John smirking triumphal way. He wrapped his kitchen apron before getting occupied with the main course. 

John was making coffee lush chocolate cake while his dinner was half ready in the oven. Mary was a lucky woman. She couldn't even make a scramble egg. John used to cook, work and taking care of everything.  
An one sided love with dismal ending.

John sifted the flour together with the baking powder, cacao powder and a pinch of salt in a bowl. He then made a strong coffee with milk, allowing it to get cooled. He beat some egg whites. When should I add the damn coffee even? John murmuring, looking for his notes but he couldn't find anything after rummaging everywhere. He decided to ask Molly.  
John dialed her number, putting her on speaker.

"John, it's my dear lovely free Sunday. Don't tell me that I shou-" Molly said rapidly until got stopped by John.  
"Molly." John declared.  
"Yes?" Molly answered half worried.  
"How should I make icing coffee?" John blurted out innocently which made few seconds pause from Molly until she answered back.  
"He's coming over, right?" Molly sounded eagerly.  
"That's none of your business hopper." John imitated an annoyed voice.  
"You're gonna explain me every detail of your night tomorrow." Molly stated.  
"And if I don't?" John asked.  
"Anderson would be your assistant for the rest of the month." Molly uttered.  
"Jesus no! I'll tell you for gods sake. And there won't be any sex night so don't be such a nosy bastard and tell me how to make this bloody icing coffee chocolate shit." John sounded funnily pissed which caused Molly laughing.

"Okay grouchy doc. Pour a bit brown sugars, butter, vanilla and melted black chocolate then mix them with beat white eggs, remaining until stiff and form nice and firm peaks and put it for fifteen minutes into the fridge to harden."

"Damn it. Why i don't have stress when I'm operating a patient but right now, uh... it is much worse." John sighed.  
"Don't worry John. You are doing great. Just be who you really are" Molly replied kindly.

"Thanks Molly. Wish me luck." John said.  
"You've got it, Hamish." Molly snapped. "Asshole." John muttered. "Have a magical night John!" Molly giggled before hanging up. John sighed with a hint of smile, shaking his head.

John did as Molly said. He then made other details and left making salad after getting prepared. He headed out to the bathroom. Spending more than necessarily, making sure he's quite clean and clean shaven, he got out of there, drying his hair and put on a pair of navy blue jeans and a serene blue two unbuttoned shirt hugged his hard, dense and angular physique with broad thick shoulders and upper back muscles, masculine square chest, rock hard arms, taut waist and athletic legs which all got earned in army life.

John poured his tom ford oud wood cologne on his hands, rubbing them on his throat and took a glance at the clock, it was almost seven. John had missed talking to Rosie. He knew Sunday is forbidden to get contact with chemo section. Hopefully Molly took some pictures of john and Rosie together when she found her new toys  
happily in her room. John put some of them in frames and settled them among her family photos on fireplace.   
The big Christmas tree in a giant home full of expensive things but lack of humans was the only thing that bothered John very much.

He was deep sinking into his random thoughts while chopping French lettuce in a bowl until he heard the door bell. John walked to get the door, brushing his fingers into his sandy glassy hair to adjust few products he had used earlier. John's hand lingering on knob, he took a deep breath and opened the door.

Sherlock was standing, one hand leaning on doorframe and other one handling a bottle of wine as they spoke. He was wearing an ebony black shirt which was beautifully revealing his broad shoulders while his collarbone was somehow vivid from his unbuttoned first two buttons, no waistband wrapping his slim waist. Jet black slacks were covering his leaned muscled thighs. He looked quipped at John with his piercing stellar blue eyes.

"Is your scanning done, doc?" Sherlock snapped. John shook his head, stuttering. "Yeah, I mean you look very good. Sorry to lingered it. Come on in." John spreading the door more open and pointed his hand to invite him in. Sherlock smirked slightly.

"You look not so bad yourself, John." Sherlock's deep and calm tone said, winking slightly at him, crossing from John and gave him the bottle, tilting his head back proudly of himself. John's crimson forehead was indicating the amount of his blushing obviously. He looked at the bottle in his hand.

"Brandy? You aim to get us drunk?" John chuckled, heading to kitchen to put the bottle on the counter. Sherlock started walking around the giant living room, skimming every detail while his hands were resting in his pockets.   
"It depends how much you will be in need of liquor later." Sherlock teased, rolling his eyes at the Christmas tree.  
John laughed inside at the sight of him loathing Christmas.

John shrugged, dressing the salad with a lemon sauce he had made. "I don't like when next day I can't remember anything from the night before."

"That's the whole point." Sherlock said, bending, his hands locked behind himself, frowning slightly, he was watching the pictures precisely.

"To forget everything?" John asked, looking up at sherlock.   
"The only way not to get involved." Sherlock answered. John nodded, knowing now that Sherlock tricks himself by alcohol to wipe every sentiments remained. Sherlock spotted the vase of flowers on the table. John furtively witnessed him smiling at them, his eyes glueing at them. 

"You talked about me with a florist then." Sherlock murmured softly, his eyes still on the flowers. "Don't boast about yourself that much." John snapped at him with a hint of smile. Sherlock continued walking. John could feel the amount of satisfaction in Sherlock's face.

"You didn't mention you have a daughter." Sherlock said, looking at Rosie's picture.  
John's smile reached his eyes. Staring from far to the picture standing on fireplace.   
"She's not my real daughter. Yet." John answered, trying not to have moist eyes. Sherlock hummed slowly.  
"Obviously. But you love her as your own daughter. I saw her with you at hospital." 

"Christ, how can you read sentiments from a picture or few seconds glancing at people?" John gaped.  
"Protecting hand over her, moist eyes and concerned look on your attitude present your love for her."  
Sherlock said, still his eyes fixed on the photo.  
"That was brilliant." John's astonished face admitted.  
"You think so?" Sherlock said, looking at John by cocked head.  
"Yeah. Extraordinary, quite extraordinary like last night." John's tweezed his brows. Sherlock smiled coyly. John loved when Sherlock smiled out of vanity.

"What's her name?" Sherlock asked, striding to John's side, from other side of the counter.  
"Rosie." John said, looking at Sherlock coming towards him.  
"So you want to adopt her?" Sherlock asked, put his both hands on counter, looking at John which made him stop stirring the content in the bowl. Smartass. John grumbled silently.

"Yeah but the court has told me to get her parents approval. It's insane. They abandoned her in the station. They don't even care." John sighed, looking up from the bowl, realizing Sherlock is so near, gazing at him.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes a bit, like studying John. "You will get hurt if you keep being light hearted, Doctor." Sherlock murmured, looking at John's wide eyes and parted lips. John was squinting the man in front of him. Sherlock deduced him a good man. At least John was a step forward to prove himself not a devil. John wanted to cup his face, touching those high cheek bones, kissing each part of his face, promising he can be more than light hearted to him. This wasn't sex. It was John's deep feelings for Sherlock. For all of Sherlock. John furtively was aware of Sherlock's inner. That bloody novel was like written from this man.

"I can't help." John almost whispered. He tugged his bottom lips. John's hungry eyes scanned Sherlock. That face made John tremble and yearn for him. John could swear he saw a shade of red covering Sherlock's neck. Did he really blush? No way Watson. John's self mind talking caused Sherlock raising a brow. 

"You promised to paint me, John." Sherlock stated, changing the conversation, still having his voice down lower, it made John blinking some. Very smart.

"Right. I'm going to bring the canvas and my stuff." John said.  
"I change my clothes here then."  
Sherlock said.  
John scowled confused. "into what?"

Sherlock started unbuttoning his shirt looking at the mirror in the hall.  
"To my battle dress." Sherlock grinned at him. John didn't get any gist, he went to grab his stuff. He poured the essential colors and mixed some of them to create new shades and grabbed his brushes, painting thinner and canvas, heading out to the living room. 

"Alright let's get it sta-"  
John's speech cut off by the scenery in front of him. It was Sherlock. Naked. John blinked some and gulped to digest what just has happened. Sherlock was resting his hands on his waist, from head to toe nude, pale and smooth, slim waist, muscly on biceps but not too much, shredded torso. Some black pubic above his member. he didn't leave his look from John away. John tried not to glare at his cock. He focused his gaze on Sherlock's face with a gaping jaw.

"Are you alive, John?" Sherlock said, sneering at the view of the Doctor.  
"That is your battle dress?" John managed to stutter out.

"Obviously. Why You seem a bit uncomfortable?" Sherlock asked, arching an eyebrow, glancing at John's a bit tight pants.

It's not a bit Sherlock!

"For a man that just figured out he's bi, would it be comfortable to see a beautiful naked man suddenly in his house?" John settled the canvas and the colors on a small tall table beside him.

"Beauty lasts only for few hours and then, there wouldn't be anything provocative anymore." Sherlock said, slumping on the sofa.   
John was setting his brushes.  
"It can last eternally. It depends how you define beauty." John said calmly, making beige shades by mixing colors on his pallet. Sherlock stilled on his place while lying on the sofa, his feet at the end of the other side. He traveled his eyes to John.

"Care to elaborate?" Sherlock maintained his eye contact, resting his head on his hand.  
John put his brush back of his ear and shifted his eyes to Sherlock.  
"Being beautiful, handsome or sexy is a gift. once you open it and play with it, the other day it can't entertain you like the first day unless-" John paused, walked to Sherlock and bended in front of him, touching Sherlock's pale arms to adjusts him in a nice pose. Sherlock's voracious gaze locked into John's eyes. John could feel the sparkle of connection between him and Sherlock by the touch.

"Unless?" Sherlock whispered, his voice deep and solid. His gaze penetrative.  
John looked at the other blue eyes softly and touched his chin, gently dragging it a bit upper. Sherlock didn't tear his sharp dazzling from John away.

"Unless you see the beauty inside him." John said, moving few curly hair strands away from Sherlock's forehead, making his thick beautiful eyebrows more visible.

"Then that beautiful face never can get wiped out of your existence."  
John smiled attentively. The magnetism of his prolonged eye contact has amplified Johns attractiveness more. Sherlock's eyes seem like softened for a moment. John fondled his thumb on Sherlock's chin till his cheek, paused for few seconds, sinking into his deep feelings towards the dark brunette man, wishing Sherlock could perceive how much John wanted to be his but there was no chance in it, at least for now. John sighed tingly, dripping his fingers on Sherlock's cheek, he preferred walking out to his canvas.

"Don't move much. I try not to linger it more than an hour." John stated.  
"Endeavoring to cope with you doc."  
Sherlock flirted. "How could you be this much fit? Do you go to gym?" John asked, his brows in a faint scold. The corner of Sherlock's mouth quirked up. "I sexercise, Doctor." Sherlock blurted out. John felt a deep shade of crimson reaching until his ears. "You tell me, what's your secret, captain?" Sherlock pipped. John combined few shades to create new colors with his brush. "Just some regular exercises from army agenda but I gained weight after coming back from the war." John said, glancing at Sherlock and back to the canvas.

"Don't worry. The ticker the thighs, the sweeter the prize." Sherlock grinned when he saw John glowering at him stunned. "Jesus.." John muttered, rolling his eyes. "Relax, John." Sherlock smirked slightly.

"If you keep teasing me, I'm gonna draw a stupid big mustache and a vagina on your painting Sherlock Holmes." John demanded with a stern voice and smiling eyes. Sherlock looked disgusted at the sound of that as he closed his mouth shot. John hummed in victory as he got back to his painting.

Few minutes later John put up a catchy song to chill the mood.  
John still preferred old songs.  
As he started the first line of Sherlock's body, he felt pleasant. Painting was like an anchor to him. Especially when it's Sherlock who's getting painted. Sting's song was smoothly fading any sexual tensions seconds ago from Sherlock's nudity.   
Sherlock seemed enjoying too. Cattish eyes from his relaxed position. John had increased the temperature for Sherlock. Heavy snow had started outside while inside was repleted of warmness.

'If I told him that I loved you  
You'd maybe think there's something wrong  
I'm not a man of too many faces  
The mask I wear is one'

John was shifting his gaze from Sherlock to his drawing frequently, he only stopped moving his eyes when he figured out Sherlock's eyes are carrying woe. John's heart cringed at the pureness of those deep eyes. Just tell me what has happened to you. Lemme refill those breaks in your heart with my feelings. John's eyes were talking to Sherlock's.

'But those who speak know nothing  
And find out to their cost  
Like those who curse their luck in too many places  
And those who fear are lost  
And there not the shape of my heart'

Stealthy both John and Sherlock were sinking to the soft music and the silence between them. There was too much in their heads. John's brush was beautifully forming Sherlock's face and body on the sofa. It was like John has painted him millions times.

"Do you have any plan for Christmas?" John broke the silence.  
"For gods sakes. I hate Christmas and it's absurd holidays." Sherlock muttered, rolling his eyes.  
John chuckled.  
"It's dull to me since I have to spend it alone." John said, frowning focused on the canvas.  
"Says a billionaire with many opportunities?" Sherlock snorted.  
"Common. Do you expect me to date my dolors, cuddling a briefcase full of cash in my bed and saying darling you're my shining star." John said sarcastically, causing Sherlock to laugh loud this time. John shook his head, chuckling too.

"That's too gross. You can substitute that briefcase with two or three hot girls in your royal bed in a six star hotel in Paris." Sherlock said.

"Too boring for me." John said, grabbing a tinier brush.  
"You are very strange doctor." Sherlock narrowed his eyes.  
"Thank god you entered me into marvel universe." John joked and earned Sherlock's funny rolling eyes.  
"You don't even need to work. You can enjoy forever without trying."  
Sherlock said.  
"What's enjoyable to you?" John asked from Sherlock's speech, he was almost done with painting, just adding some details to give it a soul.

"Traveling around the world, enjoying the nights with new hot people. A free mind with minimum bullshit." Sherlock said emotionless.  
"I can give you some of it." John said.  
"What are you, Santa?" Sherlock snapped.  
"More like a well heeled without a plan." John replied.  
"Tell me John. What's the point to give me joy when there isn't any turning back?" Sherlock asked with a quizzical look.  
"I told you. There is a joy in it. You just don't know it Mr Holmes." John said putting his brush down. Sherlock opened his mouth to protest but got stopped by John.

"It's done. You can see it now." John looked at sherlock, cleaning his colored fingers with a napkin.  
Sherlock stood up, cloth-less striding to John. John did his best not to look at what was between Sherlock's groins. Sherlock joint John beside him, his eyes locked on what John had drawn. Sherlock's smooth skin and his curves, those sad eyes that were shown for few seconds which John captured them on canvas. 

Sherlock was still gazing at himself. It was like John had dragged out what was inside Sherlock. A hurt man that has turned off his emotions.  
"It's.. beautifully drawn." Sherlock murmured, enough loud for John to hear and smiling fondly. Sherlock arrogant Holmes liked his painting. It meant so much for the Doctor.

"I love this one more than my other ones." John smoothly blurted out, looking at the canvas.   
"Why?" Sherlock broke his gaze from the painting into John's profile and his cute up turned nose.  
"Because your soul made it more beautiful." John said satisfyingly.

Sherlock looked at the hidden illumination of the painting. John had painted his flamboyant face but he brought another aspect in as well. It was a combination of lustiness and pureness of a human instinct.  
A man with blessing of having both adoring out and inner part. 

Sherlock took a step closer to John, made John instinctively backed away.  
John couldn't anticipate what was into the curly man's mind.

"oh dear Watson, my soul is as dark as dungeon. It entice you first" Sherlock continued to advance. John was sweating. Suddenly the room felt like ninety degrees for him.   
"Once it lures you, it infiltrates to your heart, veins and brain" Sherlock kept advancing and John stepping back with his eyes dilated and wide.  
"Everywhere" Sherlock whispered, deceptively soft.   
"Like a parasite spreading to your body and drain you" Sherlock kept advancing, he loomed over John. John was helpless once he bumped up against the cold glass of window. He looked up into Sherlock's chantilly blue eyes and licked his dried lips. He was desperate from his smoky whispers.

"And then it kills you." Sherlock put his hands on the glass at either side of  
John's head, closing any ways to escape. His eyes were bright and fervent. John's eyes glued to Sherlock's face. He was achingly hard. Their proximity was like charging John with an electric. Sherlock's catchy wooden cologne and his own musk were saturating John's lungs. Sherlock ran his finger around the nape of John's neck, made John's blood flaming there.  
John wanted to push Sherlock into himself and licking his mouth, biting those pursed lips. 

"She- Sherlock, please." John stuttering with a feeble whispering. He felt Sherlock's hardened against his stomach. John could feel Sherlock's high lustful desires over him.  
"Please what, John?" Sherlock whispered deeply, his lips twitched, making John feeling the scent of mint from his mouth.

John squeezing his closed eyes, his hands in a firmly fist to halt his quivering. He was grasping for air. "Please.."

"You want me, do you?" Sherlock's voice was octaves deeper now. Sherlock brushed his long fingers on John's cheek this time. John was panting, breathless and he could feel his pants were becoming too tight. His boner was growing harder. His hands were still fisting.   
"Inside of you." Sherlock whispered, his voice and words were sexually assault. John's cock pulsed at the sound of him. John whined, his breath hitching. He could feel Sherlock's very hard and long cock standing while it was touching John's stomach. 

"Lemme kiss you." John said, along with a whimper and shaky voice. Sherlock buried his head into John's throat, sniffing him while his hand was still resting on his face and other one traveled to John's tent on his pants.

"I don't kiss captain." Sherlock's warm breath stroked John's flushed ear, sent thrill into his body. Sherlock brushed his finger on John's lower lip, his dazzling fixed on the sandy haired man.   
"I only fuck." Sherlock gazed at John lustily.  
John groaned, his palmed pressed flat against the glass. His words were like a ice bucket pouring on his head. Sherlock was invincible to any kind of sentiments.

"You're afraid. Afraid if the kiss triggers you to have feelings." John brought his shuddering hands up to cup Sherlock's face. Sherlock widened his eyes, stared at John's delectable lips. He was motionless for seconds, seemed hypnotized by John's touch.  
"I'm not afraid of anything John." Sherlock's half open dazed eyes were boozing from John's touch apparently.   
"Then surrender, Sherlock. Lemme own your heart. I bet you won't regret later." John said, dump eyes, his tender and warm dazzling deepened on Sherlock.

John stood on his toes, lowering the space between them. Their gasping were joining in same pace.  
Sherlock closed his eyes, his long lashes were revealed. John was hapless to kiss him. The taller man looked like he was fighting with something as those eyes were moving, his brows snapped together.

It was when Sherlock rested his hands on John's forearms, halting him to reach his lips.

"There is no sentiment has left in here, John." Sherlock murmured, putting John's hand slowly on his own heart. John could feel the steady beat in Sherlock's heart. He isn't even a bit excited? John's hand formed into a grip on Sherlock's bare chest. He wanted to ignite the flame of life inside, in his cold heart.

The oven started beeping as the cooking is finished. It took few seconds until John regained his balance from the moments earlier. He took off his hands off of Sherlock's face and other from his chest. John caught Sherlock looking at his tent in his pants. John was deadly in need to touch himself later but he preferred to suffer from his arousal rather than turn the night to a fuck night.

"Don't move." John said fondly, heading to his room, causing Sherlock looking confused. He came back with his black night gown. Handed it to Sherlock.  
"Put it on before you get flu." John said, with briefly smiley lips. Sherlock nodded, taking the attire and wore it. 

John was a bit sad. Sherlock just wanted him for sex and nothing more. Just as he said. Indeed John was thankful to Sherlock for his honesty unlike Mary. But he was  
sad why no one could love him. No one asked to be the owner of his pure heart. Maybe he wasn't a lovable man. Maybe he should change something about himself. Molly can give some tipps later. 

John set the table with correlated white and silver colors, lightening a beautiful silver candle between them, putting all the foods on a tray and sat with Sherlock.   
He was still embarrassed from minutes ago. His strong feelings, mixture of love and passion and Sherlock's lust were all so much for John to digest. Hopefully he was not aroused anymore. Please not again. John growled at himself silently.

Sherlock was peeking John furtively. He has wrapped the rope of the gown around himself firmly which represented his very slim waist more. John wished he could be able to know what was going into his mind. 

John served the main course and salad before filling Sherlock's glass of wine. A mellow undertone classic music was playing, eliminating the amount of adrenaline in John's body.

"Sauerbraten." John claimed as he sat on his chair, sipping his wine.   
"I thought as we had a french dish yesterday, it can be a nice change."  
John said, a bit worried of Sherlock's taste.

"tolle Wahl." Sherlock said, twisting his lips into a slight smile, putting the serviette on his thighs. John chuckled.

"You can speak german?" John asked, starting to eat with Sherlock.  
"Just few sentences." Sherlock said, sipping a bit wine.

"So you're Jack of all trades yourself then."  
John grinned. Sherlock frowned cutely. "You learnt so many things to flee from depression yourself." Sherlock said, eating from his fork.  
"And you learnt them because?" John raised an eyebrow, looking up at Sherlock.   
"what do you think doctor?" Sherlock tightened his eyes a bit, looking direct into John's eyes. 

"I would say you're escaping from something as well." John rested his chin in this hand, looking adorably at sherlock which earned Sherlock's tinge smile. 

"Go on John. thrilled with your deductions." Sherlock's luscious tilted lips deepened. John loved that smile, he was double sweeter when he was showing his sentiments without even knowing it. This man was hunting his John's badly.

"Escaping from your memory."  
Sherlock's smile just faded by that. His eyes turned into a fixed beholding.   
"Like what kind of memory?" Sherlock asked, he raised single brow.

John searched into Sherlock's eyes. He crossed his arms on the table sitting closer in front of Sherlock.  
"Like the memories of the one.." John paused, traveled his eyes to Sherlock's hands. They were slightly trembling. Sherlock assumed as he locked his fingers together on table.  
John shifted his eyes back to Sherlock .

"You used to love." John finished his sentence, more like an admission. Sherlock's eyebrows fell. He opened his mouth to talk but something hindered him. John was looking at him knowingly. He nailed his snapping perfectly at Sherlock. John felt he should be glad to finally win the spar but all John could feel was guilt. He didn't want to see Sherlock's sorrow.

"You know nothing." Sherlock dryly answered, looking at his plate, playing with the veggies by the fork.

"Sherlock.. I didn't mean to upse-" John got stopped by Sherlock waving hand.  
"No it's okay. I just don't want to hear a thing about that again." Sherlock retorted, made John curious. What has happened to him that made him feel abhorrent. The person must have done something towards Sherlock.

"I promise not to bring this up again." John said fondly, Sherlock nodded more relaxing finishing his meal.  
"It was delicious, John. You're a proper cook." Sherlock said, laying his back on his chair.   
"Glad to hear that from a fashion model detective." John uttered with a hint of flirt. Sherlock rolled his eyes cutely at John. Hopefully Sherlock was out of his woe from a minute ago.

"I just help them sometimes to solve crimes, John. I'm not detecting always." Sherlock said, speaking along moving his hands on air. His cute gestures indeed. John's inner was concluding.

"Can I come with you to the crime scenes sometimes? I mean if you don't mind of course." John said flustering a bit from his stuttering.

"You like coming with me to crime scenes?" Sherlock asked, semi impressed, his eyebrows raising.

"I'd love to. I think it's sexy seeing you solving crimes." John replied confidently.  
"You're very different Captain." Sherlock chuckled.

"I like genius people especially when it comes to be cute too." John smiled timidly from what he said, he felt blushing was covering his cheeks.  
Sherlock licked his lower lips, blinking some.   
"I have heard so many things about myself but cute was something new." Sherlock claimed.  
"Well now you are informed of your cuteness." John smiled sweetly, his creases around his eyes got revealed. He stood up grabbing the plates.

"I'm gonna bring desert." He said, striding back to his kitchen, leaving Sherlock in seemingly deep thoughts because he was dazing at nowhere with languishing eyes and quizzical look.

John brought desert and tea in his balcony on a tiny table within two chairs for him and Sherlock. Sherlock strode to the balcony, looking at the scenery with ablaze eyes, snow was finished and the heater was warming the verandah. Sherlock put a cigarette in his mouth and looked back at John which was glaring admonishingly at him. His mouth beautifully were swathed around the cigarette.  
"lighter?" Sherlock mumbled around the cigar.  
"What made you think i let you smoke here?" John sat, laying back to his chair.   
"Because you like it when I purse my lips around it and suck it until its tip burning." Sherlock said, reclining himself a bit on the table, by his right leg pushed John with his chair to himself while his other foot were on the floor. John's prying was fixed on Sherlock, his both hands on the handles of the chair. He was fighting with his mind. Sherlock's face was in a hollow of smoke, darkness and the tinge light of the candle on the table only could illuminate his face a bit.  
He was right. As much as John hated smoking, it was very seductive seeing Sherlock smoking. 

"You are very lucky, Sherlock." John's hoarse whisper came out as he brought the candle up and Sherlock smirked before bending to John and poking his cigar, taking his head up to puff the smoke. John licked his lips.   
"I am aware of that doctor." Sherlock answered, blowing the smoke in John's direction before standing to reach his chair. John shook his head, admiring Sherlock's obstinately flirting methods. 

"Now I can understand why everyone want to get into your pants the first night and the next morning they are dumped by you." John bit a piece of the cake, sipping his tea.   
"And I wonder how more you can pretend you're not one of them." Sherlock declared.   
"I am not a horny useless rich prick." John smiled heartfelt while looking up at the curly haired man. 

"No you're not." Sherlock admitted softly as he bit a little from the plate.  
"When did you even learn to cook this good?" Sherlock asked.

"Well. Mary didn't even know how to boil a water. Someone had to survive from starvation." John said. Sherlock chuckled mildly. "I see."  
He looked at the window inside to the black grand piano.

"I deduce those claviers are desperately in need of your fingers on them." Sherlock stated.  
The corner of John's lips rose, his cheeks dimpled causing his eyes twinkling. Sherlock was studying him hardly, seemed he failed as he smiled weakly to the crystal haired man.   
John's smile died faster than wisps of smoke dissipated after a candle flame has been snuffed out by the wind.

"at your command." John raised his eyebrows, standing and pointed his hand, with serenity showing inside.  
"After you doctor." Sherlock said before standing. John shook his head with a meaningful smile from Sherlock's cajoling. They got inside to the catchy warm space of John's living room. John poured brandy in tulip glasses, adding warm Creme de cacao on top and handed it to Sherlock which was standing in front of the fireplace. Sherlock nodded and murmured something which John deduced it as thank you. 

John sipped a bit from his wine and put it on top of the shiny pitch black grand piano. He sat at it and went into a deep thought what to play to catch Sherlock's artistic taste. John knew those musician hands of Sherlock were formed beautifully because of playing violin professionally. 

The row of pure ivory keys marched into view, they were shimmering as if they are the moon on a stray bright night.  
"Sad or happy?" John said without glancing backward at Sherlock.  
"Sad." Sherlock said, still standing with his wine beside the flame of the fireplace.

"Okay, but I warm you. I'll break your heart." John said, placing his fingers on the instrument.   
Sherlock shook his head slightly and strode to lean on the piano, putting his glass beside John's.   
"I've informed I don't have one." Sherlock drawled.  
John looked up. He shook his head softly as he closed his eyes, brushing his fingers on the cold charcoal and white keys. Sherlock's pupils were following those fingers dancing on the keys.

He started playing.

The brisk air coming through the window, Sherlock was tapping his fingers slightly on the piano with the rhythm. The sweet sound could send any human being's consciousness adrift. John seemed lost as his fingers flew over the keys like swallows darting in a pond for fish. Sherlock's eyes were soft and languishing from the catchy lullaby. 

John could guarantee that the evocative sound of piano was cheering Sherlock. Sherlock usually couldn't stay still. But right now, he wasn't t fidgeting or moving himself. He was a statue of skin. (The song is up in the cover)

'Through the wire, through the wire, through the wire  
I'm watching you like this, imagining you're mine  
It's too late, it's too late, am I too late?  
Tell me now, am I running out of time?  
With no way out and a long way down  
Everybody needs someone around  
But I can't hold you too close now  
Through the wire, through the wire'

John's fingers were fondling the keys, playing with his soul, giving him moist eyes as he was singing along, a correlated soft voice accompanying the notes. He could imagine what a feeling would be to play day and night while Sherlock was his lover living in a same house with Rosie. He would play every evening for them while Sherlock was sitting, Rosie on his lap, satisfactorily listening while the three of them were beyond happy. It was out of sanity but that couldn't stop John to think about it.

'What a feeling to be right here beside you now  
Holding you in my arms  
When the air ran out and we both started running wild  
The sky fell down  
But you've got stars, they're in your eyes  
And I've got something missing tonight  
What a feeling to be a king beside you, somehow  
I wish I could be there now'

John looked up and opened his moist eyes, singing the last words by smiling at Sherlock. John's heart leaped out of his chest when he saw a single tear had tracked down to Sherlock's cheek bones. Nothing breaks like a heart Sherlock... nothing. 

John brought his hand and wiped the single tear on Sherlock's face with a fondly smile.

"That was beautiful John." Sherlock flinched from John's touch and strived to get to his usual manner.

"Glad you liked it Sherlock." John chuckled calmly. John was half happy half sad. He won to show Sherlock he has a heart but he wanted to heal those cracks in his heart not to make his tears revealing how broken it is.

"It's getting late. I should go." Sherlock said, glancing away to his clothes on the couch.  
"Stay the night. I'll give you and Mrs Hudson ride to the hospital for her therapy tomorrow." John didn't want to lose Sherlock tonight. This man was his anchor.

"Sounds good." Sherlock hummed.  
"Come with me. I'll show you your room." John said, leading Sherlock upstairs to his giant master bedroom.   
"If you need any underwear, you can find in the drawer there." John said, reaching for knob to leave.  
"I thought you are going to sleep with me tonight." Sherlock narrowed his eyes, looking at the shorter man.

"Well, you have misdiagnosed." John turned to Sherlock, raising an eyebrow.  
"Then correct me doctor." Sherlock strayed up the corner of his lips.

"You're smart enough to know how I am into you, Sherlock." John paused, Sherlock didn't tear his gaze as he sat at the edge of the bed, his hands were on his thighs.  
"And you're smart enough to know I don't want you just for a night." John leaned his hand on door knob while other hand was resting on his waist.

"And you're smart enough to know I don't have any feelings towards you, but lust, John." Sherlock said unwrapping the nightgown slowly.

"I am aware of that." John hid his disappointment. "Goodnight Sherlock." John stated as he turned to heading out until the deep mesmerizing voice caught him.

"Stay... your bed is convenient enough for five." John snorted. He was right. The bed was too big and John didn't know why he bought that while the only person was using it was himself. "As you please Mr Holmes." John stepped inside as he closed the door. He wished the door was closing once to reach Sherlock into a sweet good night kiss, ending with a cuddle but that could only occur in a dream.

Sherlock was totally naked under the blanket. John changed his clothes in the bathroom into his underwear and a navy blue nightgown. He brushed his teeth. He looked at himself in the mirror. The past few days made his face glowing more than before. He was still hopeful for Sherlock while he didn't know what was going to happen. 

John came out of bathroom and joint Sherlock in bed. He tried to preserve the space not to touch him. Sherlock was flicking through the channels on the tv in front. He was obviously bored. 

"Movie?" John dimmed the lights.  
"Why not." Sherlock glanced back at John while the remote was in his hand.   
"Any particular movie in mind?" John asked.  
"Looking forward to your taste of choice, Doctor." Sherlock tossed the remote to John.

John put on his current favorite movie. 'Me before you'   
They could barely see each other in the dim light of the room. There was a fetching silence except the movie between them. When it finished, John expected Sherlock being asleep but he was wide awake. John turned it off as he looked at sherlock.

"What do you think about it? Oh, lemme guess. stupid?" John imitated Sherlock perfectly and Sherlock snorted as he rolled his eyes.  
"It wasn't stupid. It was unrealistic."   
Sherlock said out of sentiments.  
"Why unrealistic? It's based on a true story plus You wouldn't do that for the one you love?" John softly asked.

"There is no love like that John. It's just the short term passion which soon fades and no one sacrifice for the other because of a temptation." Sherlock leaned back his head on the pillow and looked at the ceiling. John was tracing Sherlock's perfect profile with his eyes.

"It's not sacrificing when your own soul depends on the one you love." John rested his head back on pillow.

"Have you experienced it?" Sherlock asked, looking at John.  
"No I haven't." John answered dryly, unwilling to admit losing the convo.  
Sherlock smirked. "Obviously."  
"Because it was one sided." John finished his sentence.  
Sherlock didn't protest. Instead, he hummed slowly, more beautiful than a piece of music to John's ear.

"If you turn those useless emotions off, I promise you can enjoy your life unlimitedly" Sherlock murmured, he brought his hand and traced his finger from John's chin to his throat, collarbone and stopped at the hem of his night gown.  
"I don't have its remote to turn it off." John whispered, their gaze interlocking together. 

"Would you like me to turn all of them off for you John?" Sherlock said, his hand still playing with John's nightgown collar. Thrilled with your pun Sherlock. John knew his urges towards the icy blue eyed man.

"I prefer to be turned on emotionally Mr Holmes." John overcame his temptation. Sherlock paused his lusty eyes on John with a smirk for few seconds before laying back to his space.

"As you wish Doctor." Sherlock drawled. John inhaled Sherlock's amazing scent deeply. His sandalwood cologne, smoke and his own fresh and clean scent were mingled into something breath taking.

John wanted to end the bed talking into something less awkward. To his two birds with one stone, John brought his question that was stuck for a while in his mind.

"As a record I really wanna know have you been ever on a date after you know.. em.."  
John got stopped from his lack of words by sherlock.  
"Once." Sherlock said.  
"What happened?" John asked, he frowned quizzically.   
"It was in a restaurant." Sherlock murmured.   
"How did it go?" John curiously asked.  
"I ended up fucking the waiter." Sherlock replied blankly.

John's wide eyes and raised eyebrows fixed on Sherlock's profile and his steepled hands for more than ten seconds which Sherlock switched his eye in the corner to see if John is alive until John suddenly bursted laughing. Tear came from the corner of his eye. Sherlock growled, rolling his eyes and looking at the ceiling.

"I'm going to shut up." John said half chuckling. Sherlock tilted his lips up from John's chuckling.

"Good Night John." Sherlock fluttered his eyes closed. His long lashes were moving slowly, meaning he was thinking.   
"Good Night Sherlock." John said before covering Sherlock's bare chest with the blanket. He turned other way, staring at the clock on his night stand, he felt suddenly an ache in his heart. Maybe Sherlock was right. There is no love in this world except some bunch of movies to entertain people. He closed his eyes, reviewing his several defeats in his life. How deeply he tried to prove his love to Mary or the people before her and the only thing he earned was getting repelled. He was proved to remain unloved. He didn't and doesn't and maybe won't deserve to get loved. John resisted to keep the tear with his eyelids or not to sniff to make Sherlock realize how pathetic he feels.  
He decided hearing Sherlock's breathing till he fell asleep.


	5. Chapter five

John's POV

The next morning got started with John making English breakfast for himself and Sherlock. Sherlock was still in bed. John could watch the asleep Sherlock for hours. He was out of his arrogance features, deep sleeping while his curly hair was a bit disorganized. But John had to get ready for work.

John was fresh and eager for today. He could spend another hour with Sherlock and then meeting Rosie. He missed Rosie so much. 

John fried the bacons, prepared beans and eggs as well. He attempted to boil water in microwave until he felt someone was standing behind him by seeing a shadow on the glass of microwave.   
For a moment John felt horror. He remembered the night that someone was behind the curtain. That couldn't be hallucination because John wasn't even drunk and next morning he found that scary note right bellow the window or another time that threatening SMS came for him. 

John gulped, his hands were beside his hips, into a fist, the blade of the knife on the counter got spotted by him. John felt to be in need of being very nimble to reach the knife in time. The shadow wasn't moving. He couldn't see the head and the glass was showing only a blur shape of a tall male body. He was numb of getting assassinated in his home.   
He felt terror once again after years. War and it's scruciating side effects were back.

Suddenly John jumped to grab the knife. He spun quickly after he took the knife in his hand to drag into the intruder's chest. He brought the knife up to stab until a strong hand grabbed his wrist firmly as John's eyes met the fierce venus blue eyes which were hiding among dark strands of curly hair. It was him. It was Sherlock Holmes. John was holding the knife firmly as Sherlock was still grabbing his hand hardly. 

"Drop it Captain." The low pitched and smoky voice sent shivers to John's feet. His tune was dark brown velvet. No frowning, senseless face with sharp glaring. Their face were a few centimeter away from each other. John was grinding Sherlock's shirt and slammed him to the fridge by his back. A moan escaped from Sherlock's mouth but he didn't budge. Instead a smile creeped onto his lips that pissed John more. He couldn't taste those lips. John pushed Sherlock and fell with him on the floor. John was on top of Sherlock's stomach, his wrist still was wrapped by Sherlock's fingers and the blade pointing at Sherlock's face. 

"Drop it John." Sherlock's velvety deep voice commanded him again.   
The light of the kitchen luster made Sherlock's pupils constricted, squeezing his eyes. John used from the moment to study his face more. Sherlock hustled John's hand more, it made John grunted as he fought back to resist but Sherlock flipped on him as he sat on John's chest, twisting his hand so now the blade was pointing at John. John looked up, watching the wild eyes of Sherlock. Sherlock threw the knife away and bended on John. 

"Don't fight me when you can't fuck me." Sherlock whispered into John's ear, causing John closing his eyes and pursing his lips not to let out a moan.  
Sherlock stood up, helping John standing up. Sherlock ruffled his hair a bit before spotting at the plates. 

"Oh dear Watson, you surprise me every second." Sherlock sat at the counter. John dropped his stern look finally.

"I could kill you with that knife, Sherlock." John said, taking the boiled water from microwave.

"I know Captain obvious as I was endeavoring not to get killed by the hands of an artist ." Sherlock said, biting a piece of bacon. John added two sugar to Sherlock's black coffee as he sat in front of him. His mind was chaotic.

"I'm sorry. Recently things are a bit strange." John said, his head was down to focus on stirring his coffee.  
"How Strange?" Sherlock asked, sipping his coffee.

John sighed, sipping his coffee as he looked up at sherlock.  
"odd people, messages and" John shook his head and ate from his fork.

"And?" Sherlock stared at John with half-lidded eyes. John wasn't sure if it was important to share his fears for someone as carefree as Sherlock.   
"Nothing." John said. Sherlock didn't comment anything while a pair of curious eyes were darting at John. The rest of the breakfast spent in silence.

John changed his shirt into white, he grabbed his dark gray jacket and came into the living room, looking for his car keys as he saw it on the fire place. He was putting his coat on until his eyes traveled to Sherlock from the mirror. Sherlock was adjusting his shirt collar behind him. They gazed to each other from the mirror. Non of them gave up to drop the eye contact. John closed and opened his eyes with a hint of fondly smile, Sherlock's eyes twinkled that John knew even Van Gogh couldn't have painted the stars in his eyes. Sometimes those few gazes could fire the soul. 

When John brought his Bentley out of garage, he stopped till Sherlock gets in. John turned to look at the front door beside him for Sherlock but he heard Sherlock opened the back door as he sat at the back seat. John frowned questionably, squeezing his eyes as he looked back from the car mirror.

"Since when I'm your driver Mr Holmes?" John asked, cocking his head slightly. Sherlock laid back confidently and moved his sight to the car mirror. "You could be the hottest driver in London, Watson." Sherlock stated relaxing himself on the seat.  
"Your highness now prefer me as a cabbie!" John said sarcastically.

"You don't have any idea what would i do to you if you had chauffeur's cap right now." Sherlock said, his lips remained parted, winking at John. 

John delivered a gape from the mirror car. "Jeez." John rolled his eyes, laughing inside as he roared his car to life. 

The entire ride spent in silence until Ms Hudson joint them in front seat when they had a stop at Baker Street.  
"Woohoo. What's up boys?" Ms Hudson said cheerfully.   
"Hopefully survived from sinners." John smirked, glancing slightly at Sherlock.   
"Are you a religious man Doctor Watson?" Ms Hudson asked.  
"No I'm not, Ms Hudson." John chuckled, eyes on the road.  
"He religiously believes in bullshits."   
Sherlock stated blankly.   
"All of the people do Sherlock." Ms Hudson insisted.  
"People are stupid." Sherlock popped the p more. 

John pointed something to Ms Hudson as abruptly he turned to left, causing Sherlock slipping to the right funnily. John smirked triumphant as he entered to the hospital parkings lot to park into his spot. Sherlock was adjusting his messy hair and looked pissed at John. John parked and glimpsed back to Sherlock.

"Not everyone, Sherlock." John retorted and got out of the car, Ms Hudson was giggling slightly. Sherlock groaned, getting out of the car. John ushered them to the therapy section. He wanted to wait outside of the room to spend more time with Sherlock until the station paged his name. 

"The name belongs to you as I perceive." Sherlock claimed, poking to his cigarette care-freely.  
"Yeah, I should probably go." John paused. "Look, Sherlock, uh.. can we be in touch later, right? I mean keep on with this.." John bashfully said, rubbing the back of his hair.

Sherlock's eyes were burned of the amount of nicotine rushing through his blood. He looked back at John nonchalantly, blowing his smoke out.

"To keep on with what exactly Doctor?" Sherlock asked.  
John was clueless. They weren't even in a relationship. Saturday evening or Sunday both were not stated as a date for Sherlock. Against John's better instincts, he found the thrill of adventure riding in him to win Sherlock's heart like an unwanted fever.

"Just to be in touch. I want whatever it is to work." John responded.  
"There wasn't anything between us, John and there isn't and won't be." Sherlock uttered dryly. John nodded, Sherlock was comprehensively right.

"Does it mean we can never again spend time together?" John asked, his eyes were lorn. He could feel something at the back of his throat. It was asphyxiating.

Sherlock threw his cigarette into the bin. He stepped to John's side and put his hands in his pants pockets.  
"To See me again, you should have a good reason. You know what I mean John?" Sherlock winked and turned back, seeing Ms Hudson was done with his session.

"Doctor Watson, thank you very much for everything. I already feel my muscles are functioning better." She said happily as he patted the back of Sherlock.

"I did nothing Ms Hudson. Have a nice day." John said gently and nodded to Sherlock instead of saying welfare. He just wanted to be far away from him right now. The more being with Sherlock and begging him to accept him, the more he heard being repelled. John could later ponder for an excuse to call Sherlock.

John could feel Sherlock was following his striding with his deep gazing. John soon disappeared from Sherlock's and Ms Hudson's view to catch the station.

After accomplishing some of his daily assignments in different sections, John bought few pink roses from the hospital florist and headed out to Rosie's room. He slightly opened the door, seeing Rosie watching tv while she had no cap on her head. John cleared his throat, holding the bouquet in front of his face to hide himself.

"I do believe I'm looking for a beautiful princess living in this room. Could you please help me seeing her?" John coaxed with a subtle voice. Rosie giggled, covering her head with sheet. "Hi daddy!" 

John closed the door and strode inside. He put the flowers on her bed and stood for few moments, looking fondly at the little girl. Rosie was hiding her bare head under the sheet but her deep smile wasn't gone. 

"Rosie, you're beautiful with or without hair." John sat beside her bed on his usual seat before fondling his little hand.

"I liked my hair dad." Rosie said, her eyes were carrying woe but her lips still had her sweet smile.  
"Your hair will grow again, Rosie. I promise you." John smiled, bringing her hand and kissed it. Rosie smiled deeper, seemed relief of John's assuring.

"How was yesterday with Mr Sherlock ?" Rosie asked.  
"It was good, very good indeed. We had dinner, talked and I painted his portrait." John said, putting the flowers in the vase and filled it with the water in the beside sink.

"Did you kiss Mr Sherlock too?" Rosie asked cutely.   
"No, he plays hard to get." John said, setting the vase on night stand.  
"Does it mean Mr Sherlock doesn't kiss anyone?" Rosie raised her brows.  
"Except the mirror to admire himself." John replied as Rosie snorted.  
"When do you see him again?" Rosie asked.  
"He said he won't see me unless I have a good reason." John sat on the edge of the bed and checked Rosie's blood pressure by looking at her eyes. 

"Then come up with a good reason daddy." Rosie said, looking up and smiled at John. Her hazel green eyes were full of hope for living while John was devastated, knowing how weak is the girl. She had lost more weights during the past two days. John knew if she's going to have surgery to plant stem cells now, she won't make it. Rosie needed to be stronger physically. Instead she was mentally strong. 

"I try baby girl." John smiled while his eyes were repleted by woe. Rosie bended more and wrapped her tiny hands around John and hugged him. John closed his eyes, fighting with himself not to cry as he wrapped his arms around the little Rosie.

"I love you Rosie. You know that, right?" John whispered, his eyes were still closed. "I know daddy. And I love you very much. I wish I was your real daughter." Rosie's sweet voice echoed into John's ear, making him melting in her sweetness.

"You are my real daughter, Rosie. I am doing my best to be your guardian." John replied, stroking Rosie's back in his embrace.  
"My real dad hated me and my mom. He used to torture her and at the end abandoning me." Rosie said. John softly broke the hug and looked at Rosie.  
"Where is your mother?" John asked.  
"She died." Rosie replied.   
"How?" John asked again.

"My dad fell in love with a man. I've never seen him. He used to say, he was his first love and he meant to him. He used to say that man was very handsome. My mom figured my dad's Love secret out. She did everything to make my dad love her back but instead he poisoned her and told me she killed herself but I knew he did it." Rosie was staring at a corner, elaborating her dismal life.

"Rosie, can you explain this to my lawyer too? He will record it and then I can prove the court that your dad is criminal and they can give me your custody." John said, hope formed in his watery eyes.

"Yes daddy. I can do that." Rosie smiled deeply.  
"Awesome. I'm going to run some more tests on you and give your meds until he comes." John said, leaned to kiss Rosie's forehead. Rosie nodded happily.

John examined all the tests himself again to get sure what should he prescribe for Rosie's immune system. He changed the dosage of some of her meds. Rosie was still very weak and malnourished. An hour later John's lawyer arrived and interviewed Rosie while he recorded all her speech as an alibi for Rosie's dad. John learned Rosie's dad's name was Jim and he used to be a professor but his psychopathic behaviors got him fired.

Coming back at his office, John's mind was racing. If Rosie's father wasn't poor or if he had a proper mind and teaching university as its professor, then why he left Rosie? Why did he look like stymied beggars in that warehouse? Who was his lover? 

He was very handsome. 

Rosie's sentence reminded him of his night with Sherlock. Now he only can call him if he wants to have an one night stand and then a forever goodbye will fill the destiny between John and Sherlock.

"John??? Are you even listening?" Molly was literally shouting for John doesn't know how long.   
"Shit. When did you come in?" John flinched in his chair at his office.  
"It's been bloody five minutes I'm here ranting for seemingly no one!" Molly said as she rested her hand on her waist.  
"I'm here now, sorry." John smiled innocently which caused Molly rolling her eyes.  
"What happened?" Molly asked, sorting John's file in front of him on his desk.  
"Nothing really." John murmured.  
"Nothing really? He was in your place for a night and you two didn't do anything?" Molly asked.

"We licked our fingers." John said.  
Molly's eyes got wider and her gaze got stunned. "Oh..." she got stopped by John.  
"To turn the Bible page for sinners like you." John snorted when he saw Molly's pissed off face.  
"Funny!" She said.

"I'm serious. We didn't have sex. He doesn't kiss anyone. He prefers to only sleep with people once and then nothing. I didn't want that happen so we just talked, I painted him." John said.

"He must have experienced a terrible relationship before." Molly concluded.  
"Probably. But he doesn't speak any word of his past to me. He's like being in a confidential mission." John smiled sadly.

"Sooner or later you'll figure out this clandestine, Doctor." Molly smiled fondly at him.  
"Yeah. At least I can entertain you with my new gay life." John joked.  
"Good for you I'm obsessed with gay couples." Molly said louder as she left the office to answer the station phone. John chuckled and shook his head.

It was 8 at night when John finally got home. He decided to postpone showering because he was very tired. John slumped himself on the couch after opening a can of beer for himself. Turning on the tv, scrolling on the channels, nothing caught his eyes. John spotted the novel beside him. 

What is Sherlock doing right now? He's definitely enjoying his night with a flamboyant man or a beautiful lady. John rolled his eyes. He felt the heat of jealousy covering his face. John didn't feel betrayed because Sherlock didn't promise anything but the fact sherlock being with another person was killing John. 

John tried to read few page of his novel. It didn't take long until his eyes got heavy and he went into sleep on the couch. 

Every day John woke up, thinking what he could bring up as an excuse to call Sherlock. After thinking for hours and having no idea for a reason that could convince Sherlock or working hard at work or filling thousands of forms in court house, John was nothing but literally an alive corpse of exhaustion. Days were passing. At nights it was John's piano and his canvas that were surviving John not to call Sherlock to beg him to be with him. When John wanted to talk to Sherlock, he attempted to read the novel instead. If the story could turn into a movie, the actor could be no one but Sherlock. He was built for this character. 

John's only hope was to conquer the cancer in Rosie and winning over Rosie's custody case in tribune. He didn't want to implore Sherlock while he wasn't interested in John. John knew if Sherlock accepted coming with him for dinner at restaurant or his home was to have fun at the end of the night and nothing more. John didn't want to be a creepy miserable loser who kneels for earning emotions from Sherlock. He wanted Sherlock to like being with John. But as this would only be a dream, John decided just to hug his night gown which Sherlock wore it that night and getting into sleep by sniffing it as his anchor. 

Days after days were passing, John everyday furtively was sneaking to look at sherlock sitting in the waiting room with cigar in his hand or asking Molly how did he doing. It was quite easy for John to pretend meeting Sherlock unintentionally like walking out to check on the patients but he didn't want making himself repulsive for Sherlock.

One of these days, when Sherlock was waiting for Ms Hudson to get done with her therapy, he was laying back on a seat with his cigar, just as he removed it from his pink lips, he blew the smoke in the air carefully as if it was the aftermath of a kiss that aches to steal a life he was struggling to elude. No one was picky on him to stop smoking since he was familiar to everyone there. 

John was looking at his profile while he was standing at the entrance of the corridor. John's system responding to the smoke, and he felt his lungs being wrapped by a warm blanket. Sherlock's exhales smelt amazing. John was cursing himself for liking such a bad habit. The smoke was creating a hollow among his dark curls.

John was sunk to the scenery of the man until he noticed Sherlock's lips is twisted up as it touched his eyes, he was smirking. John's heart rattled against his ribs. "Sherlock dear, I'm done. We can go." Ms Hudson walked to him as she announced. Sherlock hummed, the corner of his lips still was up. "What is with this smile?" Ms Hudson asked. "Can't I smile?" Sherlock's deep voice answered. John missed hearing it. "You usually smile like this when something is badly wrong." Ms Hudson answered along with a giggle. "Well, I can sniff a terrible cologne smell more like a fart which belongs to a man." Sherlock said a bit louder with a slight grin as his corner of the eyes shifted to where John was disguising himself. 

John bit his lips as blood covered his cheeks. He immediately walked out to exit the hall. He was chuckling while young residents and interns were looking at John as if he's a maniac. You love my cologne, bastard.

It was only three days before Christmas. It wasn't a good day for John. Rosie had fever and John strived hard to reduce her fever and overcoming his fear of losing her beautiful daughter. He loathed how chemo was quickly undermining Rosie's body. On the other hand, John had not been able to conceive the ultimate obstacle to Rosie's custody yet. The tribunal was holding back to verdict on be half of John even though his lawyer was assuring him that John will get Rosie's custody soon.

With John's mind full of thoughts which were acting as cannibal to him, he decided to walk with his umbrella under the shower to get home. It was freezing and Christmas songs were playing all over the streets.   
"Excuse me sir? Can you please help me?" John turned back to see who's the owner of the voice. It was an old lady with seemingly heavy bags in her hands. John sighed and strode to her despite his desire.

"Where's your address ma'am?" John asked as he took the bags to carry for her.   
"Just in next two blocks son." She said eagerly and John nodded as he followed her. She leaded the way into a narrow ally without any sign of crowed and life in it. It was sort of scary, even for John, the courageous soldier.

"Are you sure it's only-" John's speech got stopped by a sturdy punch in his waist from behind. The lady started fleeting from the scene. John turned to see who had hit him but he got pushed on the wet floor as three men started kicking him. John was shouting in pain. He was wrapping his hands around his head not to get bashed. John couldn't see their faces. Rain and blood were mingled, making John drenched and soaked in them. He was almost hapless not to survive from their hitting until a male voice ordered them to stop. John was whimpering in pain, knowing he's gonna have lots of bruises and broken ribs. The man rolled John with his foot to face the Man. 

"What a hottie indeed." He chuckled viscously. John struggled to open his eyes and saw him. It was the same man that slammed him to his car in front of Rosie's warehouse.

"Who- who are y-you?" John managed asking.   
The man kneeled beside John and ran his finger on the blood around John's lips and licked it without tearing his gaze apart from John's hurtful eyes and his bloody body.

"The real dad." He said, his lips crooked up. John gloated to the jet black eyes of the man above him.  
"Jim Moriarty.." John murmured weakly. 

"You should say it sexier, John." Jim blurted out.   
"What do you want from me?" John asked, his face was tired of getting bashed and kicked.

"Ah, our Doctor isn't into prelude." He squawked, holding John's chin up to face him.  
"Listen doctor very carefully. If you keep trying to take Rosie one more time, I'll skin you." He said, stressing on 's', sending terror into John's body from his sinister eyes. John was seeing himself in the absolut murky black eyes of him which were as deep as an well.

"You left her and now want her back?" John struggled speaking.  
"Don't mix up doc! I don't want her. The point is you can't have her either. Plus if you tell anyone about me, Rosie will die." Moriarty answered, John was confused, the more he was talking the more John got into dilemma.

"Wha- what do you mean? Why can't I have her?" John asked. Moriarty sighed. "Be smart John. You should know that by now but the best for you is to let her go unless you'd like Rosie and yourself both be dead." He sneered, standing up. John was baffled. 

"Gentlemen, i guess our Johnny boy learnt his lesson. Let him rest." Moriarty stated as the other three gigantically muscly men followed him.

The rain was turned into a heavy thunderstorm even though it was the initiation of winter. John was plunged into blood and drizzling. He didn't deserve any kind of happiness. He's not deserved to be loved or having a child. Sherlock nor Rosie could be with him. John was created to be betrayed and be treated the worst way as possible because the world couldn't come along with him. 

John crawled on the floor a bit to grab his umbrella but it was broken. He sat on the floor, looking up at sky and suddenly felt in need of getting rid of his hatred. He yelled loudly while tears were joining the raindrops on his face, washing the blood on his face. John could feel his broken ribs, the irony taste in his mouth and more importantly the pain his heart. He didn't want to give up on Rosie. John finally stood up and after an hour enduring pain, he got home.

He slammed the door, limping to the bathroom. He couldn't even take off his clothes. John teared his shirt, hissing in pain while his whole scent was nothing but dried blood. Finally John managed to go under the shower. The hot water started easing his already bruised body and broken ribs. His breathing was painful. John ran his hand to his wounds and let the water play the role of someone who fondles John's body. Motherly taking care of the injured doctor.

It was almost 10 pm and John was ready to go to bed after taking god knows four of five Advils and other painkillers until his phone started buzzing. John wanted to ignore it but against his appeal he grabbed his phone and answered the number without looking at the screen.

"John Watson." John almost mumbled his name.  
"John.." the deep and steamy voice called John's name. It was him again. Sherlock. Sleepiness escaped from John's existence by that voice. His favorite voice.

"Sherlock? Is that you?" John asked. Still couldn't believe was he dreaming or it was reality.  
"John, I need..." Sherlock paused.  
"What do you need Sherlock?" John asked, hastily.  
"I need you." Sherlock answered after a whole two seconds pause. that sentence made John's body numb.  
"Okay, tell me what's happened to you Sherlock. Where are you now?" John ruffled his hair nervously.

"I drank a lot at club, I don't remember what Ive drunken." Sherlock grunted, perhaps in pain.

"Just try to sit, Sherlock. I'm on my way." John said, hanging up, rushing to grab the meds he thought would be vital for Sherlock. He changed into black adidas pants and a white shirt with a cardigan on it. John tried to cover his wounds and bruises with those attires. The corner of his left eye had a deep gash and his lips had a open rift which he couldn't do anything to disguise it. John didn't have time to find a concealer. 

He quickly got into his car and drove to Baker Street, hoping Ms Hudson would be there to help but when he knocked 221B, it was Sherlock who opened it. He was holding himself straight by grabbing the door knob, looking terribly pale and sweaty with morbid eyes. His curls where disorganized and greasy a bit. He was in tight black shirt and slacks, referring that he hadn't changed since he came home from the club.

"My Clark Kent, the life savor." Sherlock faked being bravado.

"Oh my god Sherlock. What have you done." John leaned as he wrapped Sherlock's right hand around his neck and tried to put his weight on himself to carry him upstairs. Sherlock's weight was letting his pain to show its self more.

"Where's Ms Hudson?" John asked, striding the steps slowly with Sherlock up.  
"Who's Hudders?" Sherlock drawled lazily. John rolled his eyes briefly. "Ms Hudson, your landlady." John repeated, Sherlock waved his hand.

"Ah, She's out of town for Christmas." Sherlock murmured within whimpering. John could smell the strong alcohol on Sherlock. He was deadly freezing. Sherlock must have drank lots of different liquors all together. 

John got into his flat. It was scruffy and messy but very cozy. "Where's your room?" John asked softly and Sherlock feebly pointed his room with his free hand.

John put Sherlock gently on bed and sat on the edge of the bed, bringing out his cuff to examine Sherlock's blood pressure. He wrapped it around Sherlock's arm after bringing his sleeve up, putting his stethoscope on his ear.  
Sherlock's drunk eyes traveled to John's face. John spotted Sherlock's gaping.

"Your face.." Sherlock whispered, while John was focused on the hand counter. "It's nothing." John didn't want Sherlock to know any of these. John sighed when he figured how low was his blood pressure. He examined Sherlock's stomach by pressing on it, making Sherlock moan faintly in pain. John rested his hand at the back of Sherlock's neck, knowing his fever was getting worse.

"Sherlock let me take you to hospital. You're burning." John gently stated.  
"No. I'm not going anywhere. You're a medical man. Fix me." Sherlock retorted, squeezing his eyes, seemingly feeling to vomit.

"Alright, alright. Don't move much." John put another pillow under his head by holding Sherlock's neck gently and then rushed into his bathroom, soaking two towels with cold water, coming back as he unbuttoned few buttons of Sherlock's shirt then put the towel on his collarbone and another one on his forehead. John started unbuckling Sherlock's belt to take off his slacks.

"You look desperate to get into my pants, Doctor." Sherlock's tired voice claimed. John shook his head. Even in this situation Sherlock couldn't stop flirting.

"I'm trying to help reduce your temperature you douchebag." John replied, looking back at Sherlock, he grinned mildly. God knows how badly John missed seeing him. Spending nine days without any sign of Sherlock was pretty damn hard for the doctor. John wished he could hug Sherlock, talk to him while burying his head into his embrace and crying. He was desperately in need of sharing his feelings. But Sherlock never ever could help with that. 

John injected Ranitidine and Metoclopramide in Sherlock's flank. He injected an IV to give sodium and glucose and Analgesic for his fever.

John sighed in relief as he did everything within 5 minutes. He was still sitting beside Sherlock on the edge of his king sized bed.

"Give me some." Sherlock fluttered his eyes open after murmuring.  
"What?" John didn't have any idea what Sherlock was talking about.  
"I want some... give me some, John." Sherlock winced, grabbed his shoulder as John figured what he wanted.

"Morphine or cocaine?" John asked.  
"Cocaine." Sherlock simply replied.  
"Bravo Sherlock! Bravo! You are an addict then." John said pissed off-ly.  
"I'm a user not an addict." Sherlock insisted.  
"Bare with me a little more. Those meds in your IV will soon appease your pain." John sighed as he put Sherlock's strands of curly hair away from his forehead. He smiled tenderly before standing to leave.

"I prescribe you not to trust whoever gave you this bloody thing. Look at yourself, Sherlock. This could kill you!" John was angry but he preferred to whisper shouting. "Sometimes it hits me completely, when I get high and Sometimes you get me completely." Sherlock winked, showing a bit his white teeth beneath those pink cupid bow lips. John was dying to cover those lips with his own. "God knows what's in your head." John murmured, shaking his head slightly. 

"Now that you got in my head, Why don't you get in my bed, doc?" Sherlock said, the strong smell of alcohol came out of his mouth while his drunk reddish eyes were prying the doctor. "No, Sherlock. I'm not a bastard to sleep with you when you're drunk." John retorted gently.

"Stay the night at least.. please." Sherlock's face and voice were oddly empty of any kind of satire or arrogance. Those piercing eyes made John leaving his consciousness on sherlock's doorstep.

"I stay the night." John responded, smiled warmly. Sherlock glanced up, appalled a bit.

"Who did that to you?" Sherlock asked. John shrugged. "I don't know. An intruder." John said.

"Don't lie to me John." Sherlock insisted. "Does it even matter to the most emotionless human on the planet?" John snapped. He felt badly guilty by seeing Sherlock's face dropped faintly, looking at the IV in his hand. "Sherlock, I'm sor-" John got stopped by Sherlock waving his hand away as if its not a big deal. Poor man got used to hear these insults. 

"Come here, John." Sherlock softly said with his deep low tune, patting the empty place at the edge where John was sitting before. John sighed, stepping to him as he sat softly and tried to gaze at his IV.

"Come closer." Sherlock ordered, his expression was soft.  
John obeyed as he said, his heart was bursting. This man has stolen John's soul in his vision. The good doctor bended a bit, his hand was resting on the other side of Sherlock on the mattress. He could sniff Sherlock's alcohol more and his cologne. Sherlock took John's cardigan down and held the hem of his shirt until John's hand wrapped around his wrist.   
"Don't." John said, stern look, gazing at Sherlock's long fingers.

Sherlock glared back at John, incredulous, before continuing taking his shirt up. John closed his eyes and gave up. Sherlock's eyes became wide as he saw the amount of wounds and gigantic bruises, revealing the broken ribs and the reason John had trouble breathing smoothly.

"John, you need to hospitalize." Sherlock stated, worries over took his face. Is it acting Holmes?

"I'm a doctor, Sherlock. I can cure myself." John assured, a tinge smile crept his lips.

"They were three men hitting you." Sherlock deduced.

"Should i be impressed?" John smirked weakly.   
Sherlock ran his hand on those wounds. John winced in pain, his chest came up and down. John remembered how brutally they were kicking him while Moriarty was enjoying watching John's suffering. 

He wanted Sherlock's smoothed fingers running through his hair, giving John his composure back.. the one that John was looking for.. for many years. Can't you deduce my heart intention?

"John?" Sherlock whispered, John opened his eyes, his moist eyes were innocently looking at the curly haired man. "I'm fine, really." John mumbled. He knew how mentally he was injured which he couldn't give credit to his wounds. Sherlock slipped his hand upper as he cupped John's left cheek, fondling it with his thumb which made John's breaths shattering more. Warmth seeped through John's body. Some of his silvery strands of hair were hiding those wild eyes which were exhausted now. 

Sherlock combed them with his fingers, revealing John's hidden eyes for himself. John's gaze met Sherlock's lips which curled upward into a joyous grin. The way his teeth were perfectly aligned. His smile was a ray of sunshine, and John was a sunburn. It was when John's lips lifted into a smile without feeling how badly the gash on it would hurt.

"You're the only man that is hotter with scars, John." Sherlock's voice was like the magma chamber of a volcano. John chuckled smoothly, shaking his head faintly. "Is it bribing to give you cocaine?" John asked, his voice fluffy and deep. "I guess you yourself are my narcotize." Sherlock acclaimed, his drunk eyes traveled to John's lips before they made their way back to his eyes. John wanted to lay down beside him, cuddling Sherlock's body while he was kissing his lips lazily. 

"I'll take your case. Tell me what do you know?" Sherlock asked softly, made John to come out of his thoughts. He took Sherlock's hand off of himself as he zipped himself up. It didn't break Sherlock's deep dazzling on him.

"It's none of your concern, Sherlock." John said. A stark silence stretched between the two of them until Sherlock decided to break it.  
"Why did you cry?" Sherlock still was detecting John.

"Does it even matter to you if I had cried?" John said. Sherlock relished the eye contact with him. Sherlock Holmes didn't give a damn about anyone so what's the point to share what has happened. 

"I don't want any harms for my doctor." Sherlock said causing John to blush.

"I don't want seeing you sick either." John uttered in low tune. Sherlock traveled his eyes once again to John's big gash and his bruises. 

"John?" Sherlock asked as he shifted his eyes to John's eyes.  
"Yes?" John murmured, still bending on him a bit.  
"Why didn't you call anyone for help afterwards?" Sherlock asked. "Because..." John lingered, he was pondering for the reason until his mouth worked sooner than his mind. 

"Because...I don't have anyone." John avoided eye contact. Sherlock closed his eyes, exhaling deeper than necessary and then opened his eyes. Suddenly all the drunk symptoms and flirting sentences were gone out of him. Sherlock was looking at John as if he was the nearest person to him.

"Elaborate." He said, this time demandingly.

"Sherlock, I don't want to talk about this anymore." John rubbed his face, remembering all those frightening three men hitting him without mercy. Sherlock narrowed his eyes, studying John's meaningful expressions. John had tremor in his hand. He looked at his shaking fingers until a long hand with a needle in it to get minerals took his hand. John looked up as he saw Sherlock taking his hand.

"Delete it from your mind, John." Sherlock whispered. John smiled sadly. He held Sherlock's hand softly, rubbing his tumb over it. 

"I'm just a normal doctor not Sherlock Holmes with his vast mind palace." John murmured gently, Sherlock shook his head. "Doctor Watson, you are an intelligent man." Sherlock acclaimed. "And you know when I admire someone, it means the person really deserves it." Sherlock finished his sentence. John nodded with a fondly smile. "I'll try." He assured, letting Sherlock's hand rest back on his belly.

"If you haven't eaten anything, I've some taco in the fridge from two days ago." Sherlock said, yawning.  
"I keep it in my mind, thanks." John said as he stood, walked to turn the lights off and letting Sherlock remain with his only night stand lamp on.   
"Try to sleep. It heals you faster." John said, Sherlock agreed as he fluttered his eyes closed.

"John?" Sherlock asked while he was lying with closed eyes.  
"Yes, Sherlock?" John answered.  
"Aren't you curious what I've done or who I've been with during these nine days?" Sherlock drawled each word.  
John stared at the door knob.  
"I don't have the right to know your interactions, Sherlock." John looked up at sherlock.

"I respect you and your lifestyle. What's the point to interfere your life when I can't have any place in it?" John smiled cheerlessly and left the room, leaving Sherlock with his thoughts. 

He didn't want to hear anything as answer. The thought of Sherlock spending time with several lucky strangers were making him crazy but John didn't have any place in Sherlock's life.

John stepped into Sherlock's living room. His violin was resting on his leather couch. John smiled when he saw lots of photos hanging together with red woolen. Despite the fact John's body was too sore and tired, he didn't feel sleepy. It was like Sherlock had wiped all the sedatives that John ate to sleep sooner. 

He skimmed the house and finally opted to clean Sherlock's house without ruining the order of his papers. Dust was everywhere. John did his best to make everywhere tidy without making noise. He sweep, mopped and vacuumed the floor after closing Sherlock's door not to wake him. Dusting, straightening the chairs, cleaning and disinfecting the bathroom and kitchen, wiping the windows slightly, dusting off the curtains with wet napkins and cleaning the mirror before disposing of trash.

He found out it was 5 in the morning. John opened Sherlock's fridge as he threw his rotten stuff out and decided to make a soup from what had remained in his kitchen. It was around 7:30 when John had done with his soup and also buying groceries for his fridge. John put the kettle to boil water when he felt he's desperately in need of a small nap before getting to work. John sat on Sherlock's chair, his violin on his lap when he slowly closed his eyes, sinking into a deep sleep. Tiredness made him forget how sore and painful was his whole body.

Sherlock's POV

The sound of heavy hail hitting the glass of his bedroom window along with the pleasant smell of something cooked made Sherlock coming back to the world from his sleep. Opening his eyes, taking off the IV as he sat on the bed. He was oddly fine unlike few hours ago when he felt his stomach was like a murderer, torturing him to death. He didn't have fever anymore nor headache. John's prescriptions must had healed him. My doctor.

Sherlock got up, putting on a pair of loose trousers and his striped blue night gown. He sniffed, feeling the smell of tide besides a cooked meal. He got out of his bedroom, striding to the living room, facing with the asleep doctor on his couch with his hands resting on his violin. 

He was awake all night as Sherlock deduced. How beautifully his sandy hair was staying backward. Sherlock was smiling at the way he was napping, just like a soldier. There was a spot of blood on John's shirt. 

Sherlock kneeled slowly, brought the hem of John's shirt up as he saw the gash was bleeding. Sherlock squeezed his eyes. He wanted badly to know who had tortured his doctor. He stood to head out to his kitchen, looking for a bandage until he spotted around of himself.

Looking at his flat, Everywhere was super clean, organized. Sherlock blinked some, trying to digest what John had done for him. An injured man, mentally damaged doctor who cured him, made food for him and cleaned his house while he had a deep gash and many other injuries on his face and body, probably threatened to something, judging by his last night fidgetings.

Sherlock stepped into his kitchen, he found a box of bandage, he put it out as he also decided pouring two cups of tea which John put the kettle few minutes ago. He opened his fridge to find anti bacterial but got stopped by seeing the view. No unpleasant smell anymore. instead, veggies and fruits with some snacks as substitution of those rancid un-eatable meals were in it. 

Sherlock closed his eyes while he was still grabbing the handle of the fridge firmly. The heavenly smell of tomato soup on the cooker and other facts were making Sherlock a total maniac. He couldn't let this man affect him. They were all tricks and if he let his sentiments coming back, there would be nothing but one more breaking. 

Emotion is obnoxious and toxic. 

John had many chances to sleep with Sherlock. The more John said he wanted Sherlock for something more the less Sherlock believed. Then Sherlock found how broken was his whole existence or his hurtful physic. But John didn't hesitate helping Sherlock while he knew there wouldn't be anything as compensation in return. 

The fridge started beeping as warning to get closed but Sherlock couldn't hear it since he was drawn in his mind palace. The light hearted doctor had something in his eyes that couldn't get deduced by the smart brunette haired man.

"Sherlock?" Sherlock jumped slightly when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned back seeing John was standing with semi messy hair which Sherlock found it sort of cute besides its hotness. There was blood in his eyes. He was slightly shrinking his eyes, proving his headache from exhaustion. John had already put the bandage on his belly. It meant Sherlock was thinking too much that he didn't notice John's existence.

"Why did you clean my house?" Sherlock blurted out automatically, made John's smiling vanished.

"It was very filthy. Besides, the rotten smell were everywhere. It subsides your healing procedure." John said comfortably, taking one of the cups and sipping it a bit.

"Convincible." Sherlock said, sitting at the table after John, wrapping his fingers around his own cup.

"Are you better?" John asked.  
"Much better." Sherlock answered, tried not to look at the doctor. It wasn't a good feeling when someone was caring about him because people were all pretending to overuse him but to Sherlock, John had something that Sherlock had second thought to label him like others. 

"How are you?" Sherlock managed asking. "Oh, much better, Just have aches when I move." John uttered, Sherlock nodded briefly, his gaze was fixed on John's gash on his lips.

"When will Ms Hudson come back?" John asked, looking up, probably endeavoring to distract Sherlock's thought from his scars.  
"She won't come back untill the end of holidays." Sherlock replied. John nodded. He slipped his hand into his pants pocket, bringing out his phone. He scowled as he checked his phone.

"It's getting late. I should go to work." John said.  
"You will faint if you work today, John." Sherlock dryly acclaimed.  
John frowned questionably.  
"Why's that?"   
"You're injured and deadly in need of sleeping."  
Sherlock said, sipping his tea.

"I can handle myself, Mr Holmes." John raised his eyebrows, his eyelids were shown, causing Sherlock realizing how rare is his eye color. Something between whale blue and blueberry blue with navy lines in them. Deep and evoking.

"I doubt that." Sherlock snapped back.  
"You're suggesting to be my nurse?" John said. Sherlock's eyes lit up at his flirting.

"Seems like you watch porn a lot, Doctor Watson." Sherlock snorted.  
"Common! Doctors and nurses don't hook up all the time." John chuckled.   
Sherlock liked when his wrinkles around his eyes were indicating or when his pearly white teeth were shown. "You've broken ribs, John." Sherlock murmured. "I was a soldier, Sherlock. I can get along with that." John winked at him. Sherlock found it adorable. He wondered how John looked in an army outfit. He must make Sherlock's body imploring for mercy in that case.

John stood up, zipping up his cardigan while he winced from the pain. Sherlock didn't know why he unconsciously hated seeing John leaving his flat.

"Sherlock I want to tell you something." John said, a somber reverent expression on his face. His eyes distracted him again. Like a child.  
"I bet you are." Sherlock stated, looking up at the standing man.

"Every day, every hour I scrolled my contact and stopped at your name. I was looking at it for god knows how long to find a logical reason to call you. I had million reasons to call you but none of them were convincible for you to answer me. So I thought maybe I don't..." John seemed gripping by his emotions. Human error.  
Sherlock's tilted his head a bit, waiting for John to finish his sentence. He somehow needed him finishing what he started.

"I don't deserve happiness." John finished as he swallowed, then stared down at his knotted fingers. John obviously was forcing back his hatred not to burst. But why?  
"And you found happiness in me?" Sherlock asked. John's eyes strayed from Sherlock's eyes to his lips by Sherlock's judging. He inhaled without exhaling.

"Why asking when you know it's answer already?" John arched back his eyebrows, delivering his absorbing smile. Sherlock loathed himself for liking it. He hated himself for staring obviously at John's beautiful teeth.

"By the way thanks for what you've done." Sherlock preferred to get out of John's evocative speech.

"Don't mention it." John blinked coyly, waving his hand away, causing Sherlock's lips tilting up.   
John grabbed his phone and car keys as Sherlock followed him to the exit door.  
"Don't you have any program for Christmas still?" John asked when he was stepping the stairs down.  
"Why should I have?" Sherlock answered. John chuckled.

"If I didn't know you for real I'd say you're a psychopath." John smiled brightly.  
"And since you know, what am I?" Sherlock slipped his hands into his pants, leaning to his door.

"A cute genuines sociopath." John's blazing blue eyes flashed when he said. Was he a super professional traitor with the art of coaxing and seduction or a lunatic, deducing uncommon things about Sherlock.

"How will you spend this... Christmas?" Sherlock asked, spelling the word sarcastically.

"Nothing especially unless you give me the honor to accept an invitation." John said, tapping his fingers on the stair case.

"What kind of invitation?" Sherlock frowned.  
"Will you come with me to Paris?" John asked eagerly but his eyes got rounded when he saw Sherlock gaping.

"It's only three days. I promise you a cool time there. We can visit nice places and i can take good shots of you with my camera." John assured enthusiastically.

Sherlock always wanted visiting Paris. He could have many shots for his career as John mentioned and also some small french cases or maybe having fun with a proper french lady or man.

"When?" Sherlock asked blankly.  
"When what?" John asked absentmindedly.  
Sherlock rolled his eyes.  
"When's the flight?" Sherlock asked.  
"I'll book for tomorrow evening at seven. Does it fit with your schedule?" John asked.

"It's Christmas John. Most of the flights are booked from weeks ago. How can you acclaim such a thing like that?" Sherlock asked.

John smirked, imitating a poker face. Sherlock frowned quizzically.  
"I'm John Watson. I can have everything except that man with his massive intellect." John snapped at Sherlock then rested his two fingers on his temple as goodbye. "See you tomorrow." John said as he strode the steps and left the flat. 

Sherlock closed the door and stood in the middle of his living room, staring at nothing. Suddenly a smirk formed his lips. "Oh Doctor, you don't have any idea what I'd like to do to you." Sherlock muttered smoky tune while the only listener was himself.


	6. Chapter six

John's POV

Next day John came to his hospital with a small suitcase. He got stopped in his office by the elevator, facing Molly immediately.   
Oh god not now.

Her gaze got anxious by seeing John's wounds. She dropped bunch of pamphlets from her hands on floor. John looked down, attempting to bend to collect the files until Molly's hand halted him to do any actions. John sighed, decided to give up and standing straight. He knew Molly would ask him thousands of questions which John had no answer himself for many of them.

Indeed John was thankful for having Molly. He wanted to get off what had stuck on his chest off. He was bewildered, clueless, hopeless, defenseless and depressed, knowing not being able to talk to anyone.

"Dear lord, What has happened to you?" Molly covered her mouth.

"Don't hyperbolize Molly. I'm doing fine." John said, putting on his white lap coat.  
"I won't let you go until you tell me what has happened." Molly said with a hint of seriousness and anger.

John sighed, leaning back to his desk as he crossed his hands. He was waiting for this moment. Let it out John. 

"Rosie's real father was threatening me for days until yesterday." John paused, closed his eyes as that bloody rainy evening came up to his mind. "What happened yesterday, John?" Molly asked, more like a shaky whisper. John looked up at her.

"He and three other men found me on street and started hitting me. I couldn't defend. They were too strong." John said, his expression was sad.

Molly's moist eyes were looking worriedly at John. "Why did he do that to you?" 

"He said I can't have Rosie's custody or else, he will kill me. And if I tell anyone about her, he will kill Rosie." John failed holding his tears and sobbed, his hand was covering his eyes while tears were dropping.  
Molly took a step nearer and hugged him as she started easing him. "Your Secret is safe with me John." She assured, patting John's hair fondly. John was deeply afraid. Not afraid of getting killed but afraid of witnessing Rosie's death. Whether it be by her illness or by the evil hands of Moriarty.

"I know. You always supported me." John rasped with sniffing.

"Why didn't you call me after that?" She asked. "Honestly I wasn't sure I was alive after that. I was a dead man walking when I got home." John muttered.

"What do you want to do about it?" Molly asked when John slowly broke the hug and wiped his remained tears on his face.

"I planned going out of country for few days because tomorrow the tribunal will transfer Rosie's custody to me. My lawyer told me that the court verdict is in my favor." John said.

"Few days won't save you John. What will happen after that?" Molly asked worriedly.

"I should go back for Rosie's surgery. She will have stem cells implant. I won't risk losing the chance not being with her when she needs me." John insisted. Molly shook her head repeatedly.

"You moron don't even give a fuck for your own life! This is stupid, John. What if his men take you before anyone realizes?" Molly almost yelled as john hushed her after closing the door.

"Calm down Molly. That's why I'm telling you because I need your help.. again." John said in lower tune, leaning to where he was staying before.

"What's in your mind?" She asked quieter. 

"After Rosie's surgery, she will need recovery to get her health back. That's why i can't take her out of hospital. I thought about you having all the authorities to run the hospital for a while... until I find a way to get rid of Moriarty. It actually takes more time to find a way since he is not into my money as he mentioned." John uttered, looking at Molly with anxiety.

"I'll do that for you. Just be safe John. You're my only friend." Molly wiped a lone tear on her face. John blinked with a sweet smile. "I promise you." 

"You're traveling alone?" Molly asked. "Sherlock comes with me. Can you believe it?" John smirked.  
"At least try to free your mind during these days. You know what I mean." Molly said. "Molly.. I really like him." John almost mumbled. "So what's wrong with that?" Molly asked.

"As he doesn't believe in any kind of relationships or love, the moment we are going to have sex, he will be gone the next day. I know he doesn't have any kind of feelings towards me and I don't want to lose him so I won't be able to free my mind the way you presumed."

"Why do you like him then? A man without a single sentiment." Molly asked, tilting her head a bit.

John paused. He was frozen for few seconds before looking up at Molly.

"We are the same. He has suffered in his life a lot and I'm sort of aware that he has a soft spot about me. He is just escaping from reality not to getting expunged little by little.. like me." John paused.

"Plus, there is more pleasure in loving than in being loved." John finished as he bended to collect the papers on the floor. Molly kneeled with him to help. "So you love him, don't you?" Molly asked. "I don't know, if someone's mind and heart depend on a person, what should we deduce about it?" John asked. Molly's mouth curved into a smile. "It's love, John." Molly answered quietly, though the corner of John's lips turned up slightly.

"You're going to find happiness, John. Don't surrender." Molly smiled sweetly. John closed and opened his eyes with a fondly smile.

"By the way your coffee is ready. I should go to my work. Don't get killed for gods sake." Molly said quickly without giving John a chance to respond. John knew Molly rushed out not to cry in front of him because it was vivid that John didn't have a curtain plan to survive from Moriarty's trap and Molly hated letting John going with only a plan A. She was an strange woman. John wondered how come she didn't have a happy life for herself while she was acting as a supergirl or a wonder woman in John's life.

It was afternoon when John was done with his operations and other tasks, he was watching avengers endgame with Rosie in her room. She loved doctor strange. Of course, Rosie was freaked out when he saw John even though his scars were mostly on body rather than his face. John had to lie about that. He said it was a bandit who wanted his wallet and John resisted so he got bashed. 

Rosie had worn what John had bought her. A doctor strange's cloak and the necklace which Rosie had taught John that is called 'the eye of Agamotto'. He was waiting for Sherlock to get there until they could go to the airport together.

"Daddy? If you were the master of the mystic arts, what would you do?" Rosie said, not tearing her gaze from the tv.  
"I guess I'd transfer us to another land." John said, eating a pop corn.  
"Where to?" Rosie asked.  
"I don't know. Somewhere far. Like middle earth." John answered cluelessly.  
"But daddy we are not hobbits!" Rosie laughed as John shrugged.  
"Well people say i look like Bilbo."   
Rosie giggled cutely.  
"I love my daddy bilbo then." Rosie said. John snorted. "I love you so much.. from a dwarf's heart." John put his hand on his heart, his witty manner was on.

"Dad?" Rosie said. "Yes baby girl?" John answered, looking at Rosie's emerald eyes. They were as deep as forest with lime rays.   
"Will you be here with me when I'm having surgery?" Rosie asked, her eyes carrying dread of being alone. John skipped a beat by seeing how his little girl was frightened.

"I promise to be with you the moment you open your beautiful eyes from the surgry." John said, kissing Rosie's hand. She smiled, her eyes beaming in amusement. John and Rosie lost the scene from the movie by hugging each other tightly. John's eyes were closed, enjoying the hug. How could that monster leaving her? John couldn't distinguish how that man could do such a thing to his daughter. He kept closing his eyes, hugging her daughter, imagining a warm cozy home while he was sitting in Sherlock's embrace and Rosie between them. The three of them were enjoying each other's company in a rainy evening within warm tea and the sound of woods burning in the fire place. Maybe to others would it be cheesy but not to John. He had suffered in his life enough for asking such a peaceful wish.

A sound of coughing twisted in the room, john opened his eyes slowly to see a tall man standing in an long black overcoat.  
He was staring at John, his eyes were stunned, blazed with an unknown sign which was new to John.

John was looking at him while Rosie's hands were wrapped around his neck. It was Sherlock. His gaze was penetrative, his pupils were dilated like he was trying to appreciate the scene with partially open lips. A smile reached John's eyes. He loved the way Sherlock was analyzing him. He was deadly sweet. 

"A nurse leaded me here. I can wait outside until-" He said, gently and got stopped by John immediately.

"Oh no, Come in please." John's soft voice invited him in. Sherlock blinked some as he came in with a small carryon. Rosie broke the hug and ran to Sherlock. 

"Hello Mr Sherlock!" Rosie hugged Sherlock's waist. Sherlock gaped, looking down at the cute little girl with her pinky cap. He smiled as he bended to pick her up. John's stomach cringed at the sight of Sherlock holding Rosie up. That was the most beautiful scene John could ever seen.

"Shall I ask who's this beautiful young lady I'm talking to?" Sherlock asked with a deep baritone voice which caused John bit his lips.

"Im Rosie. Dad tells me about you all the time." Rosie giggled, John blushed, tried not to look directly at him. Sherlock arched a brow, his eyes slid back up to contact John.  
"What does he say about me?" Sherlock asked, keep gazing at John.   
John scoffed. "Guys I'm here you know." 

"He has told me you have the most beautiful eyes and your cheek bones can cut better than knife." Rosie said, John turned the volume of the tv up, his face was as crimson as tomato. 

"Thanos is back, Rosie." John raised his voice, his efforts were useless because it was late.

Sherlock looked at John for a while. John could swear a shade of pink was on Sherlock's neck. 

"Put it on pause, daddy." Rosie said, John sighed, did what she said before looking back at the icy blue eyes of the taller man.

"Dad is right." Rosie giggled. Sherlock traveled his eyes back to Rosie.  
"About?" Sherlock's voice quavered slightly.  
"You're lovely." Rosie giggled, creased besides her big green eyes. Sherlock looked down, an enigmatic quirk formed on his lips.   
"You're much wiser than your age, Rosie." Sherlock admired, John smiled deeper.

"If I let, you two would admire each other till morning." John said, standing to grab the suitcases.  
"I'm going to get the car." John said to Sherlock, kissing Rosie's cheek which was in Sherlock's embrace.   
"Have fun daddy!" Rosie said and John winked.   
"As you order your majesty." John said, exiting the room.   
John intentionally left them alone together till they come along more. It was obvious that Sherlock was impressed by the sweetness of Rosie.

Sherlock's POV

Sherlock put Rosie in her bed gently. The girl reminded him of someone. Rosie was very pretty even though she didn't have hair, lashes or eyebrows. Sherlock could see how much John had told her about him. She had a meaningful gaze on Sherlock. Sherlock didn't have so many chances talking to kids but he was impressed how intelligent and also sweet Rosie was.

"Mr Sherlock, can you please do something for me?" Rosie asked cutely polite. Sherlock lowered his brows more as he jutted his chin, keen on her saying.  
"Of course, Rosie. Tell me what is it." Sherlock said, his voice soft and oddly kind.

"Please take care of my dad. He isn't fine recently. I'm afraid.. if I lose him." Rosie said, her eyes full of fear. Sherlock monitored Rosie more. It was indicated that John wasn't in a proper situation. But why? Sherlock felt his stomach shattered by looking at the amount of honesty and innocence in Rosie's spring green eyes. At least children are always representing the truth.

"I.. i promise that Rosie." Sherlock assured her. Rosie smiled, taking Sherlock's index finger.

"Pinky promise?" She said.  
Sherlock deepened his smile, looked down at the tiny finger of her pale skin. He grabbed it with his own.  
"Pinky promise." He murmured. Rosie smiled adorably.   
"Mr Sherlock I think you should go not to get late." She said, bringing Sherlock out of his den. A den of confused feelings.

"Yes, you're right." He stood, looking for a sentence to say his feeling towards the little girl. She liked him very much. John had built a hero from Sherlock for Rosie. Sherlock was happy that John had done that. "Take care of your self little princess." Sherlock said, winking at her. Rosie giggled. "I will Mr Sherlock." She said. "And Mr Sherlock?" Rosie called him. Sherlock squeezed his eyes a bit along with a fondly smile on his cupid bow. "Yes, Rosie?"   
"Daddy likes you very much. And I love him and trust him." Rosie paused, Sherlock gulped, somehow knew Rosie's next sentence.

"He's a good man, Mr Sherlock. There are few with my dad's beautiful heart in this world. Don't lose him." Rosie said, almost stammered from the hatred in her voice. "How are you so sure?" Sherlock held the door frame, whispering calmly, his eyes fixing on the little lovely girl on bed.

"Because he cares too much." Rosie smiled back, her hazel eyes gleaming.  
Sherlock's gaped face nodded and came out of her room against his will. 

Sherlock started striding the corridor and getting to the elevator. He was staring at the glassy elevator, showing the London landscape. But his mind was somewhere else. Maybe John was a good man with honest feelings. Maybe he's the right person after years failing to find someone who truly loves him. What if Sherlock could have a bright future with John and this little angel that was sick. What if John is an exceptional? John had seduced Sherlock's mind which caused Sherlock craving to sleep with him but then he was seducing his soul this time which was making Sherlock skeptical if he had turned his feelings off or not. Sherlock always chased for a decent and normal life and family.. he thought he got it from the man he loved but all he received was betrayal and scarce of living.

Sherlock ruffled his hair, inhaling deeply. It's impossible. There isn't any love existed. This is just about a doctor who had experienced a bad relationship which wants to refill it with a man and a sick girl to get himself occupied for a while and once he feels enough, he will throw Sherlock away from his life. Sherlock had enough for a life time. Now it's time to be wise and rejecting any kind of tricks. Sherlock can have fun out of this trick. John is nothing but a hobby to overuse him. Soon he will give in and they are going to have a perfect night in bed and that pretending feelings from John's side would be quenched. John is just betraying himself for having feelings for Sherlock while this is just temptation and enticement. The only question was why me? While there were lots of hot girls and boys in this bloody hospital and John can have all of them but he chose Sherlock to accompany him in this trip. 

Getting out of the elevator, Sherlock crossed from the giant lobby, he was getting pointed by the secretaries. They were probably aware of some stuff between him and John, judging by the whisperings. Sherlock spotted John's Bentley. He was tapping on the steering wheel. 

John's POV

John was waiting for Sherlock in his car. He wished he could know what happened between Sherlock and Rosie. Curiosity made him keep tapping on steering in a steady rhythm until he got stopped by the next door getting opened and Sherlock got in the car next to him.

"Sorry that i left you alone. I had some papers to sign." John brought an excuse. Sherlock fasten his belt as John started driving.  
"It's okay. I had the chance talking to Rosie." Sherlock said.  
John pursed his lips not to smile.

"How was that?" John asked softly. Sherlock didn't change any expressions on his face.  
"She's adorable. I liked her."   
Sherlock said, checking his phone out. John hummed.  
"She's my beautiful munchkin." John chuckled. "Not yet." Sherlock said bluntly.  
"You know I'm jealous now." John said. Sherlock frowned, glancing at John in confusion.  
"Because even before she met you, Rosie was your fan rather than mine." He said.  
"Does it mean we're rivals?" Sherlock asked, raising his brows up.  
"It depends." John said, pressing the gas pedals more.  
"It depends on what?" Sherlock asked subtly.  
"It depends on what we're racing together." John acclaimed.  
"As far as I know, I haven't signed myself in any kind of competitions, Doctor." Sherlock uttered dryly.

"Except competing with yourself not to give up on your feelings. Am I wrong my dear Holmes?" John said quickly without tearing his gaze from the road, his sweet smile was lifting the corner of his lips.

Sherlock remained in silence. John knew Sherlock always outlive to answer anyone's assertion but he failed finding a persuasive answer.

After Check-in and Boarding finally John and Sherlock entered to the plane in first class section. Two flight attendants with their dark navy blue uniforms gave them comfy clothes, blanket and meals in crystal cutlery. After they presented their service, Sherlock stopped checking his phone and looked at John.

"It's a 55 minutes flight John. A first class ticket is absurd." Sherlock snapped. John shrugged.  
"When we can afford it, why bothering to spend 55 minutes being uncomfortable?" John looked back at Sherlock with a hint of smile which Sherlock traveled his eyes to his lips for two seconds and back to John's eyes. John wished he could attack those lips into a kiss. Sherlock was smart enough to read John's face because he smirked tingly at the doctor.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at the next seat in other side of the plane.  
John glanced back to see who has occupied Sherlock's mind.  
"What is it Sherlock?" John asked as he saw a middle aged woman sitting there beside a man same as her age.  
"That Woman wants to commit suicide." Sherlock muttered, made John jumping a bit on his seat.

"What? How even do you know?" John licked his lips, gazing at Sherlock with bulging eyes. "Obviously." Sherlock drawled, John's eyes remained fixed on the curly haired man. "If your showing off is done, I'm waiting for answer." John murmured.

"Look at her. She hasn't taken a bath for 8... no.. 9 days. Her eyes are frozen open in fear. You can see beads of sweets on her forehead while she feels cold by borrowing her husband's jacket. The rictus grin she gave to the flight attendant while she keeps chewing on her lips. She hasn't slept for three days judging by the dark circle under her eyes and the puffiness from none stop crying. Her husband is unaware of her intention, judging by his smooth forehead and gentle phlegmatic smile. Maybe she's sick Sherlock. Oh she isn't. She's fidgeting his foot none stop, wringing one's hand. If she was tired or sick she'd be asleep but she's reckless and agitated while she suffers from sleep deprivation. Her husband suggested her to take a trip and they took first class because the husband is trying to get her attention back while he ca-" 

John suddenly covered Sherlock's lips with his hand. Sherlock's icy blue eyes became wide on the ocean blue eyes of the shorter man beside him.

"That... was amazing." John gulped before saying. "You think so?" Sherlock mumbled while John's hand was still on his mouth.  
"Extraordinary.. quite extraordinary." John was moving his pupils on Sherlock's eyes with admiration. This man was brilliant. He remembered he praised Sherlock just like this days ago and his reply was same. Sherlock didn't believe in himself. John needed to be calm but he never came back from war.

He always wanted to be in adventure. Sherlock used to accelerate his adrenaline in hundreds fucking different ways. It felt epic to John. It was genuinely hard to sit there, being close to him and not kissing him.

"Others don't say that." Sherlock's eyes got softened, his voice low pitched and smoky.  
"What do they normally say?" John asked gently, taking his hand off of his soft lips. "Piss off." Sherlock Said with a hint of smile.  
"Then they are stupid." John smiled deeper when he saw Sherlock was actually smiling. It was quite beautiful. He looked younger when he was smiling.

"How can we stop this suicide?" John asked. "You want to cope with me?" Sherlock asked, he raised a brow.  
"I told you. I love solving case with you." John stated.   
"Perfect." Sherlock said before smirking. 

"Look at her." Sherlock demanded, when John turned to look at her, Sherlock grabbed John's chin to face his side. "From the mirror." John skipped a beat by feeling Sherlock's fingers on his chin. He felt hotness surged into his body. "Why?" John mumbled. Sherlock's eyes were on the lady. "Because we can not both stare." Sherlock said as John nodded, he shifted his eyes to the mirror.

"She doesn't have any bags in her access means whatever she wants to kill herself with is located in her pockets. Clearly it's not gun." Sherlock deduced.  
"Clearly?" John frowned.  
Sherlock breathed a sigh as he got annoyed. "She has tremor in her hands and since she got here its getting worse means she's gonna commit it in any seconds." Sherlock whispered.

"Tell me what can i do?" John whispered back nervously.  
"She has unbuckled the belt, attempting to use the loo for sure." Sherlock squeezed his eyes.  
"God! Sherlock, it's not a football match. Stop interpreting and tell me what to do." John whispered loudly. Sherlock's eyes met John as they lit up with a flash. Indeed the flash of excitement.

"There's only one loo in this section. I wait in there while you're keeping her busy and then let her go to the toilet. When you heard the sound of fighting, break the door by telling the flight security." Sherlock explained quietly. John nodded repeatedly. Sherlock stood up, his face was totally calm. He's an actor. He smiled to a blonde flight attendant which was trying to flirt with him from earlier as he was about to get into the loo. John went to the woman to block her view from assuming the rest room is busy.

John pretended, he got tripped himself purposely as he nearly fell on their seats. The woman looked up at John, his husband was still asleep.   
"I'm so sorry. I'm very silly when it comes to walk." John smiled clumsily. The woman was truly frightened. Not from John but from her plan. Sherlock was right. She looked like she has seem the worst terror scene. Completely scared.

"It's alright." She mumbled quickly as she stood up, passing from John to get to the loo. John thought she has carrying some bunch of pills to end her life but his eyes gaped when he saw she was hiding a knife in her hands. Suddenly John felt fear. Surely Sherlock could take that knife from her because he was much stronger, taller and younger but John was anxious. He chased the woman as he saw she got inside. The loo here was much vaster than the economy part so Sherlock could disguise himself there. John came to a security guard there and told him the story. The man was totally baffled by John's explanation. How could a man anticipate a suicide intention? but he didn't take the risk and listened to John carefully. 

Sherlock's POV

Sherlock was waiting for her. He loved excitement, cases and anything to take the boredom from him. It was like fresh blood circulating through his body.

He was glad John was interested in helping. None of the people he was with were interested in solving cases. They were all escaping from him or calling him doofus. John was the first person praising his abilities. There must be something between them even if it was only an ocean. Sherlock smiled scantly.

The door knob started to rotate and the woman entered and locked the door behind her. Sherlock knew the lady won't kill her self with pills because she was in a rush. She didn't want to linger it more. Sherlock was furtively looking at her between the gap of the door. She brought out a knife and opened it. She was weeping tears by looking at herself. The knife was nearly under her neck when Sherlock rushed out of the door like an ambush. He grabbed the hand of the woman which was holding the knife. She turned back in horror and started struggling with Sherlock. 

She was surprisingly powerful. The only thing that Sherlock couldn't predict because she wasn't even an athlete. Her body wasn't built for any exercises or self defense strengths.

She slammed Sherlock to the mirror as it began to crack. Sherlock groaned. He twisted her hand, making her screaming. Sherlock was succeeding to win the fight until the woman pointed the knife to his throat and strived to shove it there. Sherlock's eyes sank into the darkness of her eyes. It reminded of him. The jet black eyes of him. They were dominant and penetrative. He remembered when he was acting charming. Sherlock was giving up to the lady as he could feel the sharp blade of the knife was scratching his throat until he heard her scream as she fell on the floor. Sherlock's eyes were frozen and he was sweaty. Two hands shook his shoulders as he came to reality. It was him. John. The doctor was shouting his name while the guards were arresting the woman. 

"Sherlock! Look at me. Talk to me please." John was scared, slipping his hands up to cup Sherlock's face.  
"I'm alright John." Sherlock almost whispered, he gazed at the watery eyes of John. A pair of deep steel blue orbs stared through Sherlock as though he didn't exist. He was deadly worried, his hands were cold. John pursed his own lips. He was challenging not to expose his feelings more. Sherlock was monitoring John's beauties. He could gaze to this face for hours. At his cutely up turned nose or his bags under his indigo blue eyes, his blond lashes and those silver and sandy strands of hair which were standing on his forehead. 

"Don't you dare do that again." John frowned and gulped, glancing at Sherlock's throat which was a bit scratched. 

"John, I'm really fi-" Sherlock's speech got stopped by two hands wrapping around his body this time. John grabbed him and pulled Sherlock into a crushing embrace. He was hugging him tightly, as he heaved a sigh in relief. His hand was rubbing Sherlock's back. He smelt divine. His head was under Sherlock's chin. Sherlock's eyes were half closed like a cat. He was enjoying John's warmth. They were so fit in their hug. He could sniff the shampoo in John's shiny hair. Sherlock's trembling was over. He felt blood rushed into his veins. He didn't want to admit to himself how good it was feeling. It even felt better than sex. Sherlock was swearing himself for it. Was he succumbing to his feelings? He loved the way John was brushing his fingers into his back hair and massaging him. It was relaxing him. His stroking was melting Sherlock in John's hug while he was standing without hugging him back. Don't you dare hug this man back. You can't get tricked again.

"What if she stabbed you? What if I was looking at your dead body instead? Answer me!" John was whispering in the hug. He was pissed, angry and scared but so soft spoken that Sherlock thought its a lullaby.

"John, I'm fine. Don't worry about me please." Sherlock said in a quiet manly voice, holding John's arms to face him. John's moist eyes gleaming by the face of the taller man.

"I don't lie to my doctor." Sherlock smiled slightly. John's soft lips turned into a sweet smile. He brought his hand and stroked Sherlock's cheek. Sherlock gulped, closed his eyes. His heart was beating fast. He didn't know why. It was like rushing chemical substances to his body as they were voodooing his mind.  
"Open your eyes Sherlock." John demanded. Sherlock fluttered his eyes open to gaze into John's eyes.

"The way these heron blue eyes sparkle when you look at me makes me feel alive. Don't turn your eyes off of me please." John said, delivered his cravingly smile. Sherlock blushed deeper. Feeling the weather there as hot as sun. "What are you? Bob Ross?" Sherlock snorted softly. "I know sixty seven shades of blue for your information." John tried to be serious as he failed into chuckling. "Okay I surrender doc." Sherlock rose his hand sarcastically.

When they got back to their seat. The police thanked them for what they've done and the lady got sent to a solitary place for the rest of the flight. After they got into Paris, a black limousine was waiting outside of the airport for them. The driver opened the door with tribute for both. Sherlock loved luxuriousness and more importantly he always loved visiting Paris. John wasn't looking out of the window when it crossed from Eiffel Tower or the Arc de Triomphe. He was gazing at nowhere. Was he thinking? Sherlock scanned him. His body was motionless. Only blinking occasionally. He was suffering from something. 

John's POV

After checking in the hotel, speaking of hotel, better say heaven. Shangri-La Hotel Paris. Which was originally the palace of Prince Roland Bonaparte. Each night, €20,000. Of course it wasn't a big deal for John Watson. Money was a piece of paper for the doctor.

The receptionist lingered a bit until she looked up at John and Sherlock.  
"I'm very sorry but our best suite is a double room. Our best singles are full at the moment sir." She said, fidgeting a bit from worry because John was always booking here when he wanted to visit Paris. They had a special curtesy for him.

"We don't have any problem with that, right John?" Sherlock smirked to the receptionist without looking at John. John knew about Sherlock's plan. Well he slept next to him one night. He will survive this too.

"We're taking the room then." John told her as she obeyed and gave them each two cards and the bell boy to carry the cases. When they got into their room, John payed the boy fifty bucks. (Welcome to Patrick Melrose's generosity lol) the suite was huge. Parquet floors and vast furnished teak balcony with the best landscape.

John closed the door and took off his jacket as he dropped it on a sofa in the living room. "I'm gonna take a shower. If you're ordering food, choose from my behalf too." John said. Sherlock nodded as he was taking his overcoat off. "comme vous le souhaitez monsieur." Sherlock drawled, caused John grinning while he was stepping to the bathroom. "merci mon chéri" John stated, hearing Sherlock's chuckling from the outside as he started taking a shower.

Sherlock's POV

Sherlock was smoking in that luxurious veranda while watching the beautiful scenery of the city. The maid brought a tray of lunch for two person, Sherlock was still staring at Eiffel Tower while he was deep in his thoughts. He was reviewing hours ago. The way John was floating him worriedly and breathlessly. The way he hugged him warmly, telling how badly he was worried about Sherlock. His eyes were dilated when he was gazing at Sherlock. Was that another his plan? Another trick to make Sherlock liking the Doctor. But eye reflection is from automatic nervous system as Sherlock were pretty aware of that. John wasn't feigning. Sherlock flinched when he heard the door of bathroom getting open.

Sherlock got back to the suite to fill his growling stomach a little bit with the food as he put on a random music until his eye spotted John through the bedroom door. Sherlock narrowed his eyes to focus more on John's chiseled body. His broad shoulders and his muscles on his thighs or some packs that still were remained from his military periods. Dark bruises were on his ribs along with several half healed scars on his body. Tanning was slowly fading from his skin, judging by the tinge bronzed color of his skin. The music was playing with Sherlock's mind while he was already got played by the semi naked doctor. 

'It's a little dirty how the whole thing started  
I don't even really know what you intended  
Thought that you were cute and you could make me jealous  
Poured it down, so I poured it down'

Sherlock's eyes traveled between his groin. The tent in his boxer. Sherlock felt blood just rushed into his spine. He was so curious how does it feel to touch John's muscly arms or his toned chest.  
When John stretched his arms, his well developed biceps rose and fell in graceful unison with every movement of his perfectly- shaped chest. He had a scar on his left shoulder which represented the shot he got in war. A bit under it on his scapular there was a tattoo. It was a date when Sherlock squeezed his eyes to read it. Must be when he got shot, judging by the written year.

'Next thing that I know I'm in the hotel with you  
You were talking deep like it was mad love to you  
You wanted my heart but I just liked your tattoos  
Poured it down, so I poured it down  
And now I don't understand it  
You don't mess with love, you mess with the truth  
And I know I shouldn't say it  
But my heart don't understand  
Why I got you on my mind  
Why I got you on my mind'

(Song: On my mind by Ellie Goulding)

Sherlock didn't notice that he was still holding his breath. John put on a white short sleeve shirt and and black jacket on along with black jeans as he came to the living room. Sherlock professionally ignored the shorter man.

"I wanna go out to take some photos." John said while munching on the food. Sherlock looked up at John after putting a grape in his mouth.  
"Taking photos of what?" Sherlock asked.  
"Of things that i consider them beautiful I guess?" John raised a brow, stating his answer like question.

"John, you can download all these sceneries through internet." Sherlock said as he plopped himself on the couch. John sipped a bit water.

"But i can't find you in Paris on internet." John said softly. Sherlock smirked. Don't flirt with me captain.   
"You want to take photos of me then?" Sherlock asked. "Yes if you give me the honor." John responded.

It was when Sherlock sneezed, he sniffed before covering his mouth. Both John and Sherlock stared at each other in an exotic silence.

"That was the cutest thing I've ever seen." John snorted, beginning of a long laugh to Sherlock's judge.

"SHUT UP." Sherlock roared but it didn't scare the doctor but even made him chuckle louder. Sherlock grunted within rolling his eyes.

"Going to get changed, Hedgehog." Sherlock muttered as he disappeared into the bedroom to find an outfit in his suitcase. He could still hear John's laughing, he himself felt a smile plastering on his lips. John's chuckling was adorable. Adorable? What the hell even?

Minutes later, Sherlock and John were walking in Champs-Élysées. It was a bit cold but Sherlock felt oddly good. Non of the people he slept with were into something like this rather than spending time in his bed. John was smiling. He looked happy as Sherlock examined him stealthy. 

"Sherlock, could you stand here please? It's a perfect spot for a shot." John eagerly asked him while he was adjusting his lens of the camera. Sherlock lingered a bit. John was kind. He needed to be loved. Sherlock couldn't give him that. Not after he what went through. John had suffered from his ex wife Mary a lot but what if John wanted to compensate that to Sherlock? 

"Sherlock? Are you with me?" John waved hand, looking at him suspiciously. "Yeah yeah I'm alright." Sherlock mumbled and stood where John said.   
"Start taking your coat slowly off while you're looking at the lens." John suggested. Sherlock smirked tingly. John knew a lot about photography as well. The way he was turning the shutter on and off to create light painting in the photos was inspiring the curly haired photo model.

They kept walking and almost each ten minutes John was asking Sherlock posing for photos. The last spot was The Arc de Triomphe. John kneeled to take few shots. He was literally satisfied with his works until a lady came up to them.  
"You two look very cute. I saw you taking photos of your boyfriend from the other side of the street." John blushed, he brushed his back hair and avoided looking at Sherlock.

"Thank you ma'am. But we are not together." John admitted. Sherlock read the amount of the woe in John's voice when he said that.

"Oh that's a shame. Why don't you stand beside him and I take a picture with your camera?" The middle aged woman suggested. John looked at sherlock. He was scared of getting recoiled by Sherlock. 

"Come here John." Sherlock softly said. John strode to him as he stood beside him. 

"Guys stay together a bit more friendly." The lady chuckled as she said, adjusting the camera. John brought his hand and wrapped it around Sherlock's waist. Sherlock liked the warm hand and the sweet scent of the Doctor. He smiled at it. She took the shot and John thanked her. 

"Sherlock, It looks fantastic. That woman was good at it. Take a look." John brought the camera eagerly, showing it to Sherlock. "I don't care John. It's getting dark. I wanna go back to the hotel." Sherlock muttered and started walking, leaving John with his lips parted. 

The entire walking got spent in silence. John was pretending he was fine while his eyes were yelling he was hurt. He was vividly thinking for a decent conversation but he was afraid to speak. Afraid of getting neglected by Sherlock again. They went to the elevator to get to their room. 

John was scrolling the photos in his camera. Sherlock was bored, tapping his head rhythmically until a young lady joint them in the elevator. She was blond, had hazel green eyes and so fit. Sherlock narrowed his eyes on the lady. She smirked at Sherlock. John cleared his throat, letting Sherlock know he was noticing. The door got open as Sherlock and John got out of the elevator.

"What's in your hand, Sherlock?" John asked. "Her phone number. Obviously." Sherlock murmured.  
"Obviously?" John frowned, entering their room after Sherlock.   
"What do you expect me to do, John? Watching crap telly with you for the rest of the night?" Sherlock almost yelled at John, caused the doctor to flinch slightly.

Sherlock ruffled his hair, looking back and seeing John gazing back at him. He was calm. He was annoyingly calm but sadness was written all over his face.

"Then tell me how do you want to spend your evening." John murmured softly. Sherlock snorted angrily.

"John, you can't prison me here, thinking I can be as boring man as you are. It's not the life i like!" Sherlock pointed at John, his voice still loud.

John lingered his gaze on Sherlock for few seconds and then rubbed his face. It was like all of a sudden all that energetic face faded and turned into a depressed tired man. 

"I can entertain you if you give me a chance." John said, sadness seeped out into his words. Why was it hurtful to hear? Sherlock sneered nervously, he kept shaking his head as if John had said a joke. 

"Stop acting like a spoiled virgin girl who is waiting for his prince with his white horse, John. We're both grown up and not that young for these silly games! Let your self having fun with me tonight." Sherlock uttered, each word was coming with his steps towards the shorter man. He just needed a small positive look from John to take him right there. The man that was blowing Sherlock's mind. 

John got stopped when he felt the gap was becoming too tiny. He rested his warm hand on Sherlock's chest. "Letting my self having fun to be left the next day by you? Is this what you want, Sherlock? Does it satisfy you?" John whispered. There was something in that voice, a pain behind it. Sherlock watched. He watched John's eyes. Then he knew. The anger was nothing but a shield for pain, like a cornered soldier randomly throwing out grenades, scared for his life, lonely, desperate. The way John was leering his oceanic eyes on Sherlock was luring the genius man in the room.

"This is me, John. I leave people once I use them. But you are making me leaving you without tasting you." Sherlock muttered, ping poing his gaze between John's eyes.

"I've told you. I can let you taste John Watson's world once you open your heart, Sherlock." John crumpled his fist on Sherlock's chest, made his heart beats even quicker. Sherlock closed his eyes. "Stop it, Jawn." Sherlock whispered, his gasping cane through his ragged voice. It took three seconds until doctor's voice caressed Sherlock's soul once again.

"Just be careful not to drink different liquors together." John said in quiet tune, he put his hand off of Sherlock's chest and and grabbed his laptop and the camera before heading to the balcony. 

Why don't you yell at me? Why aren't you angry? For how long can you endure my asshole-ness John? Leave me before I hurt you more.

Sherlock took more glances at John before leaving the suite, slamming the door and cursing himself. Sherlock had told John once that he shouldn't rule himself while Sherlock was now doing it to himself. He was depriving himself from his doctor. Boring? The least Sherlock found in John was being boring.

John's POV

John was trying to get himself occupied with photo editing. His sight was getting blurred until he closed his eyes as tears slowly slipped down on his face. He quickly wiped them with his hand and sniffed. Idiot. What are you? 12? He smirked bitterly at himself. Sherlock's photos were mostly amazing. John was almost done with them until he spotted the last photo. Both of them together. Sherlock and John by the Arc de Triomphe. John zoomed in a bit, realizing Sherlock was smiling deeply in the photo. John's eyes gleamed as he kept dazzling at the photo. He decided to put the photo on his desktop and his phone wallpaper. He copied other photos of Sherlock in a flash and put it on his suitcase. 

Sherlock had found John a boring man. Of course when there was many cool younger men and female outside, there wasn't any place for John in Sherlock's life. Maybe, Sherlock was just tolerating John and he disgusted spending time with the doctor.

John was about to close the veranda door to prevent entering the breezing in until he saw two persons in the next verandah, drinking something as they were standing in front of each other. 

It was him. 

Sherlock and the girl earlier in the elevator. 

Sherlock was chuckling as he saw John staring at him. His chuckling slowly faded. Sherlock's eyes were immobile as the rest of his body. a stony glare carved into John's dark blue eyes. Fury blurred his sight but John tightened his jaw and glared at him. Sherlock's glaring was sucking something out of John.

'Alone in the dark, hole in my heart, turn on the radio  
And the words fall out, but they got no place to go  
Wasted on you, high on the fumes  
Know I should let you go  
But the world won't stop  
And all I got is you'

Sherlock's staring broke as it shifted on the girl when she started licking his neck. The curtain was halting the view but John could perfectly deduce that her hand was inside Sherlock's pants to give the tall man joy. His eyes were fluttering. 

'Another day, another lonely night  
I would do anything to have you by my side  
Another day, another lonely night  
Don't wanna throw away another lonely life'

(Another lonely night- Adam Lambert)

That feeling of solitude had dominated John's heart, clinging every thread, catching them. The betrayals of the people he loved the most, left his heart abandoned, but live there the cobwebs billow like curtains inside his heart. Sadness was hovering over the heart and the mind. Of course Sherlock never took an oath to be loyal to John, to be with him. It couldn't be counted as betrayal. It was just an agony which was vivisecting John's heart out of his numb body. 

Once again the curly haired man's eyes traveled to where John was staying but got deprived of witnessing the doctor because John quickly entered in, locking the balcony and dropping the curtain not to see anything more. 

John wasn't jealous of the girl because next day Sherlock will not even remember her. The point was that Sherlock didn't even want to give John any chance. John knew the fact that after this trip he couldn't meet Sherlock anymore. Moriarty was a dangerous man and he would use from any opportunity to take revenge from John. 

John slumped himself on the couch, deciding on writing a message to Rosie, explaining her about their evening. Maybe John could one day bring Rosie to Paris, showing her the whole city. John had so many plans for Rosie. He loved the thought of buying cute stationary, dresses and toys for her daughter, seeing her growing up, doing her homework when she enters to school. All of these dreams could become true if Rosie could earn her health again and for John, getting rid of Moriarty.

John could hear his heart thudding in his ear. Anger and woe were mingled, knowing what Sherlock was doing at the moment. 

John decided to go to the lobby. At least he could waste time a bit more endurable than suffering from Sherlock fucking that whore. 

He was walking to find a vacant sofa until he saw a white grand piano locating a bit further than reception while tourists were sitting in different angles of that within eating something. John decided to chill himself. He sat behind it and some people there just glanced back at him. 

Skimming the kies made John want to play. He started playing ghosttown by Madonna. 

(Well... Johnny boy & Madonna :D) 

His fingers were amazingly running on the black and white claviers, causing everyone listening to the evocative sound of the piano. A teenage girl stood up and sat beside John while she was sitting backward. She had long curly honey brown hair.

"avec votre permission monsieur" the girl whispered cutely in John's ear. John smiled, without taking a glimpse at her. "c'est mon plaisir mademoiselle." John said fondly, the girl smiled gladly. She wanted to sing along John's playing.

She started singing while John was playing. Her voice was soft like velvet. John was admiring how talented she was while she was very young.

'Maybe it was all too much  
Too much for a man to take  
Everything's bound to break  
Sooner or later, sooner or later

You're all that I can trust  
Facing the darkest days  
Everyone ran away  
But we're gonna stay here, we're gonna stay here

I know you're scared tonight  
I'll never leave your side'

The only stumbling man there with a glass of martini was leaning back at the wall, watching John and the girl. John's eyes traveled to the man. The messy haired man with unadjusted collars was gazing at him. It was Sherlock Holmes. His eyes were red and his lips were occupied poking to his cigar.

'When it all falls, when it all falls down  
I'll be your fire when the lights go out  
When there's no one, no one else around  
We'll be two souls in a ghosttown'

As John finished the last accords within the girls singing, everyone started clapping. John teared his gaze off of Sherlock to the girl.

"Im John. What's your name mademoiselle?" John asked her kindly as he shook her hand. She giggled slyly. "Juliette." She said. "Your voice is very beautiful. Thanks for helping me hiding my miscues on the notes." John chuckled. "Thank you too for letting me to sing with you. You play beautifully." The girl said. They had few more comments about music and arts as they said goodbye and John looked at where Sherlock's was staying earlier. There wasn't any sign of him over there.

John sighed. It was almost midnight. He went straight forward to their suite and changed in his night gown. Sherlock was smoking again in the balcony, unbuttoned shirt covering his body. John slipped into the bed. "How was it?" John asked with a hint of taunt.

Sherlock didn't bother to look back as he blew more smoke out, John was finding the view super hot.

"How was what?" Sherlock asked what he knew it's answer very precisely. "The woman." John popped the 'w'. "Aaah yes the woman." He threw the cigarette out and entered in as he stood in front of John. "So you want to know how I fucked her." Sherlock said, undoing his black shirt. John was watching him voraciously. "Already deduced you." John said as he laid his head down on the pillow.   
"You've learnt a lot, doctor." Sherlock stated as he joint John in bed while he was laying down only with his boxer on and throwing his shirt on the floor. John felt his heart racing when he felt Sherlock's weight on the other side of the bed. He smelt shampoo and tobacco. The consulting detective must had a shower after his intercourse. 

Sherlock's POV

"Why didn't you stay the night with her?" John asked after few minutes spending both in dead silence, he was laying supine. "She insisted kissing me. It was obnoxious." Sherlock blurted out, rolling his eyes at the thought of that. John chuckled softly. "Well, people kiss each other when they are having sex. It's the nature of human beings, Sherlock." John said. "Nature is gross then." Sherlock said annoyed. John kept chuckling.

"Why do you even think it's cool to kiss someone?" Sherlock tilted his head, looking at John's profile. He was laying down just like a prince. Still brightened shampooed hair, smelling of after shaved and his own fresh scent. His blond lashes blinking sometimes. "Because with the right person sometimes kissing feels like healing." John gently said in a low pitched tune, causing Sherlock contemplating. Maybe if it was John kissing him everything was different. Pleasant and enjoyable. 

From the first moment Sherlock started touching the girl, he imagined it was John. Fantasizing John's hands were undressing him, licking his whole body or tugging his hair when Sherlock was thrusting himself. He even wore John's perfume. Sherlock was too busy visualizing he had sex with John that he couldn't even remember the woman's face and body. He just relieved himself into a body which he pretended it was John. 

Why Guilt is burning me? Blame it on the night, John... not me.

If It was you, I'd give up and taste every cells of your lips, John Watson. My brain is rebellious.

That's why you shouldn't do that. Once you kiss him you can't keep pretending anymore. 

Sherlock's eyes unconsciously spotted John's gazing on him. It felt oddly amazing when he looked at him and he was already staring. Sherlock flicked his gaze to John's soft lips. Sherlock found himself entranced by him. John's eyes had his own vocabulary which Sherlock loved to learn this language.

Where words are restrained, the eyes often talk a great deal. John's eyes was making love with Sherlock, sparkling with passion and sentiments. Inside, Sherlock was a mess, chaos and feeling his urge becoming more needy to touch the next man on bed, pecking his lips with his own and sniffing his scent until he got drunk of it. John's lips parted and for a second Sherlock thought he's going to kiss him until the voice of the doctor came out.

"Sexual intercourse was even occurred in the first day of human's lifetime, Sherlock. But Kissing wasn't created typically." John raised an eyebrow, his gaze fixing on Sherlock.

"I didn't know you were witnessing those times." Sherlock snapped with a hint of sarcasm but in a deep low and quiet tune more like a warm whispering. John softly chuckled, sent electrical chills down to Sherlock's spine. Oh, Jawn.

"Well let's say Adam and Eve even hadn't kissed. It happened many years after them." John acclaimed determinedly like it was a revelation to him. 

"Enlighten me then doctor." Sherlock said after a very long five seconds lingering by gazing at John's crystal indigo blue shimmering eyes which were surrounded by his golden whiskey lashes. 

"No, Sherlock. You're going to humiliate me. Just skip it." John's eyebrows snapped together in an adorable way. Sherlock rolled his eyes, shaking his head slowly. 

"I won't. Tell me, John... please." Sherlock couldn't believe his voice was more amicable and his intimation fluffy with the doctor. John exhaled deeply, revealing his mint scent coming from his toothpaste.

"Many many years ago there was a tailor couple who was working together, sewing clothes all day along." John spun a bit before resting his hand under his cheek, facing Sherlock instead of laying down supine. His playful eyes were carrying the woe of Sherlock's earlier action. Sherlock could see that John had cried. What have I done...

"One day when the man was making clothes beside his wife, he found his both hand occupied with handling dress couturing while her wife needed yarn. The man grasped it with his teeth among his lips. The woman looked at her hands, figuring out both of them can't let go of the stuff as she decided to take the yarn with her own mouth. When she met his lips with her own, they found it sweet. They kept touching each other's lips and keep on tasting each other. They started realizing what is kissing." John finished his uttering. Sherlock felt paralyzed as a strange feeling crawled into his muscles. 

"More like an experiment." Sherlock retorted slightly. John nodded in agreement along with a tinge smile. "Life is an experiment, Sherlock. Kissing is one of it's sweet part." He said, deepened his smile. His lips were a pale pink. The top lip was thinner, but not too thin, and it had a natural cupid's bow; the bottom one was a bit larger and more plush, maskuline but soft enough to touch it with another lips. Sherlock wanted to rub his lips on John's lips especially when he every two minutes was licking them with his tongue.

"Next time if you wanted to sleep with someone without kissing, eat raw garlic. I prescribe you eating it just one hour before the interaction. No one will dare to get near to your mouth." John acclaimed, eyes leering adorably on the curly haired man like he furtively was aware about dirty thoughts in sherlock's mind. Sherlock failed resisting as he snorted and gently chuckled. 

"I'll keep it in my mind, doctor." Sherlock assured, John smiled as he dropped his gazing off of Sherlock.

"Good Night, Sherlock." John softly mumbled. He seemed so tired, his eyes draped shut. Sherlock nodded in response. He wished he could talk more with John. Sherlock never ever had found John boring. He was angry at himself for calling such a unique man boring. John was a mystery to Sherlock with a lot of unbelievable potentials and beauties. He found himself so dull for letting his lust deciding for himself and sleep with a girl while he broke the man which was genuinely caring for him.

He took his laptop and the flash to look on the bed, scrolling at all the shots. Sherlock even loved them more than any professional company that he had worked with for his job. John's photos had soul. It had a vibe  
That Sherlock couldn't elaborate it. His photos were spectacular. 

Putting the laptop away, Sherlock saw John's phone buzzed for a message on the nightstand beside himself.  
As curiosity couldn't get separated from Sherlock, he took the phone and opened the message to read. It was from an unknown number.

Enjoy your last days doctor ;)

Sherlock almost read it four times. He felt an ache in his heart. He never got scared but this was about the asleep man beside him, his doctor. He couldn't even find a clue that who could have sent such a threatening kind of message. John was in danger. He was hiding something big. He sent a message from his own phone to the inspector detective Lestrade to send the whole messages of last month on John's mobile phone. John must had deleted lots of messages like this. Sherlock remembered Rosie telling him that John is not doing well or when John told him that odd people and messages are occurring in his life or the time that John was terribly bashed. Sherlock came out of his messages after making it as unread. He wanted to put the phone away but his eyes got fixed on the wallpaper. 

It was John and Sherlock smiling both at the camera. John was wrapping his hand around him, trying to get near to the taller man. It was like two men loving each other, a real couple trying to have a photo in front of the arc de triomphe together. Sherlock turned to look at the asleep man beside him. John didn't put their picture in Sherlock's flash because he was definitely believing Sherlock didn't want and care about John at all. He was disappointed and with that he still was striving to show his emotions to Sherlock.

Sherlock pondered while he was still gazing at John's chest coming up and down as he was breathing smoothly. His light slate gray and smokey white strands. It was making Sherlock tranquilized, looking at John was pacifying him. The gash on his lips was still apparent. Sherlock skipped a beat when he thought how badly John was getting hit by three men. But he then helped saving Sherlock. 

Suddenly Sherlock wished he could rest his head on John's chest, listening to his heart beat while John was telling more stories like few minutes ago. Indeed Sherlock was the man with too many rules. Putting lines around himself not to let himself to show his hidden emotions.

Did he really care about John Watson? Sherlock gulped as he understood his heart beat just rose when he saw that massage, realizing John was in danger or when the girl was singing the lyrics along with John's playing. He loved his playing. Sherlock loved the way John was dazzling at him in the plane. Does this really means caring? trust issue was another big deal for Sherlock. Fear of facing the same scenario was another reason of shielding his heart from any kind of sentiments. But he didn't know what must he deduce about his heart after he spent days with the former soldier beside him. 

Sherlock was sunk in his deep thoughts as he felt his phone buzzed for a message. It was from Lestrade. Always slow, Gavin. 

He had sent a the list of his recent messages during the current month. There were some Congress invitations, few medical alerts and then the ones that Sherlock was looking for them. Some bunch of messages all threatening John with different numbers, proving that the man doesn't own any of these numbers. Man? Yes obviously. 

Sherlock scrolled down as he saw a message from Molly Hooper. John's clumsy secretary. It was written 'done' 

Sherlock was tempted to send Molly a message from John's phone. He could get what he wanted but he shut the screen off after marking the message as unread. If he sends a message, John's life will be in danger. It was something that was telling Sherlock that the owner of those scary messages belonged to someone professional.

Sherlock loved hard puzzles and enigmatic cases. He normally used to say 'the game is on' but this time it wasn't enjoyable. For the first time in Sherlock's life, a case made him scared, stressed instead of entertaining him. He laid his head back on the pillow, avoiding to face John as his eyes were closed to wander into his vast mind palace.


	7. Chapter Seven

John's POV

Next morning when John fluttered his eyes open, morning rays of sunlight was spilling into the room. something was different. Something has shifted, a weight no longer lying back beside him. He blinked, his mouth dry, he pushed himself up on his elbow. John heard the sound of a shower. He pushed himself upright, pulled on a pair of black jeans and a dark slate green jumper. 

Last night incident came into John's mind. Sherlock really had sex with a stranger while he knew the older man wasn't in a good mental situation. John couldn't even hate Sherlock. He hated himself for being not enough to attract the younger man. Of course Sherlock was totally attracted to John in sexual aspect but that didn't work for the doctor. The last thing John wanted was to have an one night stand with Sherlock Holmes.

It wasn't like John didn't want to sleep with the curly haired man. God knew how many times his scent sent John into a heady trance.

Whenever his penetrative gaze met John's, the doctor felt electricity in his skin, hormones shutting down of his higher brain and the rise of his animal self. From there on in it was all passion, intense, intoxicating. It was his release, his escape, his drug... not that it was easy, he knew well enough to avoid letting sherlock lay his hands on him.

But sex wasn't just a fun thing like bungee jumping for John, it was a powerful union between two souls. Isn't that why we say 'lovers'? He could never see anything sinful about sex between consenting adults. John just liked it to be an act between two souls who love one another deeply, who were committed to one another. As a species we are happiest with life long mates. 

John had felt the heady passion that sex brought him without the love which was not easily repairable. Not only living with Mary but also other ex lovers of him were used to treat the doctor out of love.

Sherlock's lust was like fireworks in the moment but ultimately leaving him empty, shallow and addicted like the junkie.

As John returned, he saw Sherlock emerged from the bathroom, wearing his purple shirt, the one that John met him the first time. It was hugging his curves perfectly together with his black slacks. His curly hair was still wet as he was drying it with a small towel. They stood still for a moment looking at each other.

"Good morning." John said.  
"Bonjour." Sherlock said, his voice was still husky from the sleep, seemingly waited for John's reaction and when he smiled, Sherlock winked cutely at the doctor. John licked his lips as his usual before hearing Sherlock's growling stomach. John softly chuckled. Sherlock rested his hand on his stomach defensively.

"You know I can fix that somewhere beautiful." John pointed at Sherlock's belly.   
Sherlock blushed till his ears while John was seeking cues by glancing at Sherlock's expressions conveyed through his eyes.   
"Then lead the way, Doctor." His velvety voice pitched to John's ear. 

John brought Sherlock to Café Marly in 93 rue de Rivoli. They sat in a terrace which the maid leaded them to. The pyramid in front of Louvre museum was in front of them.   
John took a glance at the menu. His gaze flicked back at Sherlock, finding him scanning the menu. John's dazzling was unconsciously fixed on his face. Sherlock looked up at John as he tilted his head mildly.

"If you're done with memorizing my face, I would like to order." Sherlock said causing John blinking some.  
"I wasn't staring at you." John defended clumsily but the servant survived him as she came to take the orders.

"A petit café for me and café liégeois for him." Sherlock muttered and the servant nodded as he went.

"Why did you order on behalf of me?" John frowned quizzically.  
"Because you were reading them as if they are Chinese." Sherlock said.  
"Don't be a smart ass, I can perfectly speak french." John rolled his eyes.  
"No objection." Sherlock snorted.  
"What the heck was that drink even?" John asked.  
"It's not a drink. café liégeois is a dessert. A coffee ice cream sundae." Sherlock claimed.  
"Aha. And what made you think I'm into sugary things?" John asked, arching an eyebrow back.

"Don't pretend you're into espresso you hedgehog." Sherlock stated blankly.  
John glared at Sherlock. "Otter."   
"Yup." Sherlock stared back at John.  
John squeezed his eyes as Sherlock twisted his lips up a bit and John bit his lips, failing at being angry. They both bursted in laughing.  
John loved the moment Sherlock was laughing deeply. It was quite pure.

Silence was dominating the two men at the table. John finished his coffee and looked up at sherlock which was gazing at the pyramid. Today was Christmas and John was hoping to spend it with Sherlock rather than watching him choosing a random guy for his fun.

"Will you spend Christmas night with this boring hedgehog?" John asked, his lips was formed into a smile but his eyes were sad. He was doing his best not to show his down in dumps manner. Maybe he was even a better version instead of Mona Lisa on Louvre museum wall. Whenever Sherlock flirted with a woman or a man, John would feel stings of jealousy rushing through him.

Sherlock teared his gaze from the view on John. He was contemplating. John knew that from his eyes.   
"Let's visit the museum." Sherlock dodged the answer. Why did he evade from John's question. 

They decided walking sauntering way to the museum. It took hours spending there, visiting each countries popular stuff, commenting on each historical thing there. Sherlock knew more about characters rather than antiques. John was good at the incidents. None of them even took their gaze off of each other except the Monuments. John even took few beautiful shots from Sherlock without making him realizing. Sherlock was truly a wised intelligent man because even though he wasn't aware of some important historical occurring in the past, he could complete John's sentences as he was explaining the happenings. John could deduce Sherlock wasn't bored. He was even interested.

They bought chips as finally they ended up walking in the streets, talking about the antiquities and the wars and civilization in Rome, Persia and China. John explained some stuff about Mona Lisa painting and Madonna of the rocks. 

They were both sunk in discussion until they got stopped by someone's screaming. They both turned to see a woman screaming with a carriage. Sherlock ran to her as John followed him. "S'il vous plaît aidez-moi, il a mon bébé avec lui" She sobbed, was out of breath. The carriage was empty. John could appreciate what a terrible feeling would it be to lose a kid since he had the fear of losing Rosie. "Sherlock her baby is stolen." John said, finding Sherlock's face not stunned by the news. "I can't speak french but I can see John." Sherlock snapped. John sighed, thinking it wouldn't be a good idea letting Sherlock facing with criminals when he promised the man a nice trip.

"Stay with her Sherlock." John said as he started running but he felt someone was accompanying him by running along with him. John looked as he found out it was Sherlock. "This is my Christmas, John." Sherlock winked as he outpaced from him. John tried to run faster not to lose Sherlock. How could Sherlock guessing the way without knowing Paris streets. John was just chasing Sherlock since he didn't have any idea where were they going.

After three minutes running, John almost lost Sherlock until he heard some noises somewhere as he ran into a restricted alley, finding Sherlock's hands up as a man in his thirties was holding a seemingly two year old girl in his hand and pointing a gun to Sherlock in his other hand.

"Drop it, now." John commanded sternly, causing both Sherlock and the intruder turning to look at John. "Put your hands back of your fucking head or I'll shoot this dude." The man yelled at John, he didn't have french accent. He was an english man. "Okay! Okay.. calm down pall." John said calmly as he put his hands back of his head while he slowly strode to stand beside Sherlock. The man was nervously pointing the gun at John and Sherlock. "Get lost both of you before I kill you both." The man stated, his voice was trembling.

"Give us the kid and we will be gone." Sherlock said relaxed. The man grinned nervously. "Are you insane? You're about to die and still making deal with me?" The man said. "Why are you doing this?" John asked, endeavoring buying time. "I can sell this kid and get money. I need the fucking money." He said, the pistol was shaking in his hand.

"If you need money, my wallet has triple value of that baby." John said. Sherlock pried at John. "Your cards are in your other coat, John." Sherlock whispered. "I have a plan." John whispered back. The man blinked some. He was indecisive. "My plan is better." Sherlock demanded. "Does it not put us in trouble?" John whispered. Sherlock rolled his eyes."it's a plan not a miracle, John." Sherlock replied. "Then let's stick to mine. I don't want get blown with that gun." The man yelled suddenly. "Shut up both of you!" He dragged the trigger as he pointed the gun to John.

"If you lie, I'd take a bullet right in your head." the man said, strode to John. John scoffed slightly causing Sherlock glancing at him as John started talking by blinking. "T A K E B A B Y & R U N" Sherlock read John's blinking. 

Sherlock's POV

The man came, slipped his hand to John's pants pocket while the gun was pointing to John's temple. John was confidant and stern.   
Oh badass captain. 

John leered to Sherlock when he took out the wallet to open, John firmly hit his wrist as he dropped the gun. "Now!" John yelled as Sherlock took the baby. He stepped backward. John fell on the floor by the man's tripping. They started struggling on the floor, each one attempting to reach the gun. Sherlock was holding the baby, looking dead worried at John and the man. 

Hit his left shoulder, John!

The man got Sherlock's attention since the first minute by suffering from the injury on his left shoulder.

"Sherlock run!" John yelled as the man's hand was wrapping around his neck. The baby was crying in his embrace. The man was two size of john which was using from his weight to compensate his lack of technics. 

Sherlock shook his head as he came nearer to grab the gun until the man took it sooner and it was when Sherlock just buried the kid into his trench coat and bended on her to protect her. He was waiting to get shot. Sherlock squeezed his eyes closed until the gun just got fired. 

Sherlock felt no pain as he opened his eyes looking at both men motionless on the floor. "NO!" Sherlock shouted harshly. The man's body was on John. "JAWN!" He once again shouted as John slammed his elbow into his jaw knocking him painfully before slowly staying up while the man was wailing in pain. His arm got shot and was bleeding. Sherlock was grasping air. He was deadly scared.

Sherlock's heart was beating as if he finished a marathon. The pumping was strong enough for him to assume how worried and scared he was for John. For couple of seconds Sherlock thought that he lost his doctor. 

"I'm alright, Sherlock." John smiled to Sherlock. His hair was ruffled. Sherlock heaved a sigh in relief as he hugged the baby tighter. John had saved him and the baby without killing the man. He smiled back to John. 

The courageous doctor of mine. 

John twisted the man's hands as he grabbed the scarf from his neck and cuffed him, hearing the police car getting near. "I thought.. it was you who got shot." Sherlock managed to say, his voice was trembling, the baby was calming in his embrace. John made the injured man kneeling on ground as he turned to look at sherlock. "Thrilling that you care, Mr Holmes." John smiled, his bright teeth were illustrated. Sherlock was swearing himself for loving it. 

"Don't be happy because I couldn't pay for the hotel if you were dead." Sherlock lied as John chuckled. "Aha. I believe you." John replied, Sherlock smiled in himself at the beauty of the doctor. It could be hell if John couldn't survive. Sherlock closed his eyes and shook his head briefly to come out of his frightening thought.

After they called the police and John delivered the intruder to the police and Sherlock gave the baby back to her mother, they both got thanked from the french police officers there and more from the deadly worried mother. Police wanted to escort John and Sherlock back to their hotel but they got off from the car in the middle of the way, needing to grab fresh air after what they had been through. 

"It's true then." John murmured, looking at the road in the front. "What is true?" Sherlock squeezed his eyes in question. "Give Sherlock Holmes a puzzle and watching him dance." John twisted up the corner of his lips which caused Sherlock chewing on his own lips to hold a chuckle. "Accurate, dear Watson." Sherlock stated. 

John's POV

"You shouldn't have saved me. You could get killed." Sherlock said softly as he lighted up a cigarette. John smirked. "Please." John drawled, glancing with satire at Sherlock as he raised an brow to the doctor.

"I'm John Watson, Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers. Three years in Afghanistan, a veteran of Kandahar, Helmand, and Bart's bloody Hospital. How can i get killed by a naïve bandit?" John said, he arched his eyebrows up. Sherlock nodded slightly while his eyes were smiling. "What?" John asked. "Nothing... it reminded me of something." Sherlock blew the smoke out. "Of what?" John asked curiously.

Sherlock paused. He looked at nowhere before starting to talk. "There was a gay army porno which.." Sherlock got stopped by John. "Jesus Christ, Sherlock!" John demanded firmly but second later he snorted as he started laughing. Sherlock was chuckling as well. "You cock." John said as Sherlock innocently shrugged. "Didn't know you have a kinky thoughts for military guys." John snorted slightly. "My fetish for military men transcends every other kink I've. There must be something about their uniforms that does it for me." Sherlock muttered, squeezing his eyes in curiosity. 

"Then you missed the honor of meeting me sooner cause my Halloween costume was my uniform this year." John chuckled, Sherlock's eyes got wide with a semi gape. "What a waist of opportunity." He grunted. "Is that so?" John asked flirtatiously. 

"Well i love watching military men like you to-" John stopped Sherlock once again. "To defend the country." John completed Sherlock's sentence as Sherlock snorted. "It wasn't exactly what I wanted to say but it's okay." Sherlock muttered before both laughing.

"Damit." John checked his watch.   
"What is it?" Sherlock asked.  
"I reserved somewhere for dinner at eight. I thought this morning we can go for shopping to buy tuxedo." John said.

"I see." Sherlock drawled, glancing away to the crowed.  
"We've half an hour still." Sherlock said, smirking tingly at John.  
"You mean.." John mumbled but got stopped by Sherlock.

"You medical men always emphasizing golden time is important. I guess this half an hour could be the life savor." Sherlock said, John hummed skeptically.  
"If you run with me, we can be on time." Sherlock said, John smiled sweetly at him.  
"Let's go then." John said. They both started running among the crowd and traffic. It was funny when people were glaring at them if they were insane running like a five year old kid.

When they spotted the first shop, they entered. It was a vast Luis Vuitton clothing and accessories. The shop was empty of any clients. There was only two men with tags on their same maroon shirt walking bored.   
"You check the left." Sherlock said before disappearing to the right part of the huge shop.

John strode there, detecting for any sign of a nice tux. He started rummaging between the regals. His eyes captured one of them more absorbing than the others.

"Sherlock?" John called him as he was skimming it.   
It didn't take few seconds until Sherlock came to where John was standing.  
Sherlock stood beside him before his eyes traveling on the tuxedo in John's hand. 

"I presume this one suits you." John smiled after looking at Sherlock.  
"Have you seen it's price, John?" Sherlock said.  
"Let's say it's none of your concern." John blurted out. Sherlock frowned before a smirk crept on his lips slightly.

"You are a total moron, Watson." Sherlock bluntly said, John shrugged relaxingly.   
"Shut up and tell me what do you think of it." John said quietly.  
"It's worth a try." Sherlock took it, looked around himself as he found men's fitting room.

John kept searching for something decent for himself while Sherlock was changing. He chose one, aimed to check it out in another fitting room until he got stopped by Sherlock, calling him.

"John, I need help with the cuffs." Sherlock stated, John stood behind the door, hesitating if he should get it or not. "Should i come in?" John asked. Sherlock opened the door slightly and pulled John by grasping his shirt in as he closed the door and put it on a lock. John spent seconds to discern what just has happened. 

"Oh." It escaped from John's mouth. Sherlock was wearing it. An expensive cut double breasted which was tailored slimmed and trimmed with a longer hemline, bold across the shoulders, gentle lines around the waist. Sherlock radiated an air of quiet confidence but John found no arrogance in his demeanour. John's eyes strayed to him deeply, he mused. It was totally matched with the contours of his body. Sharp black which was correlated with his pale skin.

"How's that?" Sherlock murmured in front of the gaped doctor. John could swear that Sherlock was perfectly aware of John's craving. They were so close in the tiny space of the fitting room. 

"Like a girl's dreamy man." John admitted, moving his pupils devouringly on Sherlock. He tried to distract himself by buttoning Sherlock's cuff. Sherlock raised his eyebrows mildly.  
"Or maybe your wet dreams?" Sherlock muttered, stepping forward as John bumped back at the wall. Sherlock was doing it again. Blocking both sides of John, compelling the doctor only to gaze at the curly haired man with his astonishing tux. 

Another sexy trap.

John squeezed his eyes closed while a dense scowl was forming between his eyebrows, his hands were in a fist.   
Get it together John Hamish Watson.

"Open... your... eyes." Sherlock drawled each words slowly.   
"It's getting late, Sherlock." John whispered, his eyes were still closed.  
"Not if you cope with me doctor." Sherlock said in a steamy voice. John fluttered his eyes open, let his blond eyelashes revealing the deep ocean blue eyes of him. All he felt was deep scent of Sherlock. John could sniff him till the end of his life. John loved his scent, his mellow wooden cologne and his own sweet musk.

Sherlock was searching something in John's eyes. John was cursing himself for his arousal, for gasping air through his nasal. He was seeing himself on mirror behind Sherlock. He was flushing hardly. But more importantly he was pissed. Sherlock couldn't see how much John liked him. John wished he could yell at him, grabbing his collar and shout out how much he loved this man. 

Love??? Oh my god! Love.. Yes, love... I have fallen for the man without sentiments. Why can't he give me a chance to prove it?

"Sherlock... please." John dazzled at Sherlock's penetrative eyes. A combination of aqua marine and sky blue with a hint of gold were mingling together, representing his total beauty. 

Sherlock bended and whispered with a warm breath to John's left ear. "Please what?" This made John whining gently. John's fingers were numb. It was more like vivisection rather than torturing not to give up on his erection.

John heard someone knocking at the door. John decided to remain determined and less feeble about Sherlock. "In a minute." John said sternly as he was looking up at Sherlock's very near face. Sherlock was voraciously looking at John.  
John settled his hands on Sherlock's arms and picked them off of the wall while he was gently obliging Sherlock stepping backward as John was pushing him to lay back on the mirror. After all, he was a military man with special power.

John stood on his toes, gloating at Sherlock's cupid bow. Sherlock's face was a bit scared now. He seemingly got ready himself in case John wanted to kiss him. But John knew he hated kissing. He avoided any kind of love impressing. John teared his gaze to his eyes and did his best not to show his benevolence.

"Use your hands if you're hard. I believe you've saved it somewhere in your mind palace how to jerk off, Mr Holmes." John whispered back, letting Sherlock's arms free of his grasping. Sherlock was gaping at John. His lips were partly open. His eyes were wide.

"Now I want to check this tux." John said as he opened the door for Sherlock to get out. Sherlock shook his head tingly while he was sneering.   
"I'd prefer my doctor's hand on me rather than mine." Sherlock said, glancing one more time at the shorter man before leaving the fitting room.

John closed it as he slipped on the door to sit on the floor. He ruffled his hair nervously. "The hell is wrong with you? Whether he likes you or not you can't be with him when you're back. Just have fun for fucks sake." John muttered to himself. His phone buzzed as a text alert. He slipped his hand into his pants pocket, grabbing his phone as he unlocked it to read the message.

I can't wait to give your present Johnny boy. Merry Xmas!

John deleted the message. He deleted all of Moriarty's messages, as if he was deleting the scary man from his life while he was finger counting for John's death.

John finally managed getting out of the fitting room while he was wearing his tux. He payed for both tuxes as he stepped out of the shop, spotting Sherlock smoking with that divining outfit.

"Shall we go, Mr Holmes?" John tried to cool the mood. Sherlock poked one more before throwing the cigarette away and turning back to see the owner of the voice. John faked a smile. His thoughts were tangled. His mind was a chaos while he was counterfeiting a bright smile.

Sherlock looked at John from head to toe. His dazing was more amiable this time, which made John loving it. It wasn't lustful this time. "Sure." Sherlock said subtly while his eyes were admiring the shorter man.

They got there in time. L'Oiseau Blanc rooftop restaurant and bar which was located on the 6th floor of the building and offering a stunning view on Paris most famous landmarks and a beautiful terrace, It was one of the most elegant and singular restaurant in Paris.  
A french cuisine offered their special menu, french blue lobster with saffron flavored potatoes and mussels in Villeroy style  
Line-caught turbot cooked to the bone with creamy romaine lettuce and hazelnut from Piemont which both of them ordered.

"Côtes de Provence from Rosé wine list plus your very fresh Osciètre Petrossian caviar." John told to the maid. He used to come to eat here a lot. Most of them were with Mary and after that it was himself alone.

Sherlock's POV

Since the fitting room incident, Sherlock wasn't even sure why he wanted to test John one more time while he was facing with many coincidences, each one revealing how deeply John was into Sherlock. The doctor had strong feelings for him. Maybe it was just the amount of testosterone hormone in his system for doing such a thing in the fitting room. But if it was just about enticing sexually, then why Sherlock couldn't get hard over other people? He tried hard when he was alone with that girl in hotel room but the girl didn't cause Sherlock reaching to his climax, he imagined it was John who had sex with him. Even imagining the naked bodies of other flamboyant men and women on the streets couldn't make him excited anymore. On the other hand, looking at John was sending shivers to his body, not only sexually but also he couldn't think properly. It was beyond sex. Something that never ever had happened to Sherlock even with him, the nightmare of his life.

"Tell me Mister Spock, What's your wish since tonight is Christmas." John asked, his eyes crinkled at the corners. Sherlock studied his face. The subtle upward quirk of his mouth told him he was hiding his dazed thoughts into a sincere smile. 

My doctor is worried.

"Christmas is nothing special to me to wish something." Sherlock blurted out.  
"But you must have a wish, Sherlock." John said, stippling his hands under his chin.

"People wish for stupid things. Cars, house, money or fame which no one can obtain them by miracle."

John hummed in agreement. "That's human being Sherlock." John sipped a little from his wine.  
"Humans are boring." Sherlock muttered.  
"Well, you're human too. I mean.. sometimes." John grinned. "Those few minutes of your humanhood definitely wishes for something. What is it?" John asked.

Sherlock pondered. He couldn't find anything as a wish. Why he didn't have anything to wish for? Was he that blessed and lucky that he had reached to all his goals or was he that negligible to the world? He used to be a fresh happy normal man with numerous wills but now all he thought was pointless.

"I really don't have one." Sherlock mumbled, his finger was circling on the edge of his glass of wine. Suddenly a soft touch blocked his finger from moving as he saw John was holding Sherlock's hand fondly. He was running his thumb on it. Sherlock looked up at John, finding him smiling brightly at him.

"Three years ago on a Christmas night, I wished to be dead. I was done with living." John was talking softly, Sherlock was head to toe listening.

"A year later on Christmas i thought for hours and hours but I didn't find anything to wish for." John rested Sherlock's hand on his left hand while he was stroking it with his right one. Sherlock couldn't reject that. It felt amazing. He was loving it.

"Next year I wished nothing for Christmas again, until this year." John told Sherlock as he relieved a soft sigh before licking his lower lips. 

Again. 

"I have two wishes this year and none of them belong to me." John said, gazing at his hands on Sherlock's with a pleasant smile. Sherlock cocked his head mildly, waiting for the doctor to talk.

"I wish for Rosie to get her health back and.." John paused, deepened his smile as he was traveling his gaze from Sherlock's left eye to his right. 

"And for you to find your true love." John said, slowly leaving Sherlock's hand as he sat back, letting the servants to put their meals. 

John wished Sherlock something that was showing how deeply he cared for Sherlock. If he was selfish he could wish Sherlock for himself. Sherlock hated when his fingers disconnected from John's warm touching. He couldn't deserve this man. Even if it was just a trick, Sherlock couldn't accept it. He used to live in his automaton world. But he could appreciate his feelings because once in his life, he used to be loyal to his love, capable of showing his sentiments to his friends and family. Sherlock decided not to comment on what John said but his blinking were faster then before, revealing his reaction to the doctor's speech.

John pointed to the maid to bring another bottle of wine. "Don't you think it's too much to drink?" Sherlock asked, he felt his voice was a bit hoarse of the hidden hatred in him. He wanted to believe and trust John, to express his feelings and get out of his virtual den what he had build around himself.

"Maybe we should both get drunk to tell each other everything we're too afraid to say sober." John arched an Eyebrow as he stated. It wasn't an enigma to figure what John meant. 

"John, I want to admit something." Sherlock said hesitant, he was tapping his index and middle finger on table. John's face looked enthusiastic as if Sherlock wanted to tell him something emotionally.  
"I'm all ears." John stated gently.  
"I've read those threatening messages in your phone." Sherlock swiftly said while he was staring at the cutlery on the table. 

"But it's password protected." John said, gandering at Sherlock. "Please." Sherlock glared at John as if John has said an absurd thing. John slumped his shoulders, gloating at his wristwatch in a condescending manner. "It's not a big deal." John said. "He is sending menaced messages like you're dead man walking and you lie to my face it's not a big deal. John, tell me who's this guy." Sherlock said sternly, he was tired of John's disguising. 

John looked up at sherlock. "I can't tell you." John said, his tune was soft unlike his stressed face. "John, I'm a consulting detective. I can get any clue without making him figure it out." Sherlock said.

"How do you know it's him and not her?" John asked as he furrowed his eyebrows. Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Told ya. I'm good at what i acclaim." Sherlock said. 

John was fidgeting his feet. His forehead was a bit sweaty. Sherlock bended slightly and looked into John's eyes which were leering at Sherlock furtively. "Just a hint, John." Sherlock whispered. John traveled his eyes to Sherlock. "Do you trust me? Are you trusting to give me a chance to be with you?" John paused, traveling his eyes all over Sherlock's face. Sherlock knew John was where at this point. "My answer is same as yours then." John said, glancing at Sherlock's lips and back to his eyes. "Convincing." Sherlock muttered, he was staring at the candle between them melting from its flame. It was burning. What if the candle remained untouched? Then all it could experience was insularity. It was alone without getting seen. Maybe Sherlock was wrong about how world should function. Maybe he was like that untouched candle, intimidating from getting burnt.

"I know you are afraid if I'm pretending all of these." John said, making Sherlock looking up at John. "But seriously Sherlock, how can I even pretend my feelings." John was low key, was clueless how to express his emotions vividly. Sherlock was gazing at John's meaningful somber smile. "Perhaps it's too simple that everyone does it easily." Sherlock said with an irony tune. John was shaking head, still smiling as if he was laughing at his lack of words.

"Honesty is much easier Sherlock." John paused. "We just make it hard by lying." John said "It is what it is, John." Sherlock said, he was gazing at John's shimmering pupils while they were flickering and dilated. "Yes. It is what it is." John nodded in agreement, playing with his Serviette. Tell me you're one of them.. one of those liars. 

"How would you care for desert, sir?" The servant's speech made Sherlock flinching. "People care for desert? How so?" Sherlock frowned as he said, John snorted. "il plaisante." John muttered to the young boy which was seemingly naive from Sherlock's point of view. 

Later when their desert were on table, John started talking about his memories with Harry when she wasn't an alcoholic careless woman. Sherlock was curious to see some photos of John in his past. He wanted to know more about John while he was only had told him about his siblings and a bit about his parents. Surprisingly the doctor was smart enough to read his mind as he scrolled through his gallery and started showing Sherlock, pictures with his parents, friends and then serving in war. The camps photos were much more interesting.

"When was this?" Sherlock asked as he was staring at few men together in the picture. All with military uniform. "It was in 2002 in Kandahar. I'm the only survived one in this picture." John said. Sherlock liked the uniform on John. It suited him perfectly. 

"Do you have your uniform still?" Sherlock asked, scrolling to see more pictures. "Someone is uniform fetishized." John murmured with a hint of taunting. Sherlock sniggered briefly. "Whatever." He said, caused John chuckling. "Of course I have it." John wiped a tear in his eye that was caused from his laughing.  
"Sounds provocative." Sherlock stated. John snickered.   
"Otter." Sherlock snorted by hearing his pet name again. 

"You once told me you don't have any friends. Have you had before?" John asked.  
"Do you really think anyone can endure being my friend, John?" Sherlock said.  
"You are apparently a dickhead but once someone takes two layers of your asshole-ness, can reach to your affectionate." John said, eating his desert a bit. Sherlock frowned. "Someone has studied me hardly." Sherlock said, caused John chuckling.

"I can even write a book about you. A study in Sherlock." John drawled the title funnily enough that made Sherlock chuckling.

"Well, you are still a mystery to me, doctor." Sherlock admitted. John's eyes darted back and forth between Sherlock's eyes. "Help me to clear myself for you then." John said fondly, a sweet smile graced on his lips.

Sherlock lingered leering on the Doctor in front of him for a while before opening his mouth to speak.  
"If you had to wish something for yourself, what would it be?" Sherlock asked, he lifted an eyebrow. John's pupils flared at the question of the man sitting in front of him. Sometimes Sherlock couldn't find any clue in those deep eyes. 

"I don't see myself worthy of having a wish." John blurted out, his eyes brows slightly snapped together. Sherlock's gawking eyes were locked on the shorter man. John didn't have any wish. Poor man wasn't giving himself any credits. 

"Well then, you might have a reason for that I guess, right?" Sherlock said. John leaned his crossed arm on the table to be nearer to the front man the other side of the table as he deepened his adorable smile, causing Sherlock losing his arrogance once again.

"Indeed, I had many wishes which never had come true." John paused, glancing at table and back to Sherlock. "But they slowly faded away until the past two weeks, meeting you. It caused something lit up in me again but I don't value myself for having those wishes turning to reality." John said, a girl came up with desert, Sherlock's breathing was paced up as if he had run. He never was the reason of someone feeling better. John felt starting to have wish because of Sherlock. He wanted to help John believing he's too worthy but trust issue was halting Sherlock to do the right thing.

"Sherlock..um.." John licked his lips, fidgeting his foot under the table while his eyes were glued on their deserts. "Yes, John." Sherlock's deep voice answered the doctor, John gazed back at his eyes. He looked dubious and a bit stressed. There was a nice music spreading through the restaurant which was tingling with an enjoyable vibe. 

"Will you.. will you dance with me, Sherlock?" John dared to ask. Sherlock could plainly observe the tick layer of blush on his neck and cheeks. He was afraid of getting reject. Poor doctor didn't know how deeply Sherlock was addicting to him.

The corner of Sherlock's lips turned up, his eyes flashed in an alacrity as he stood all of a sudden while John gazed at him gapingly. "Then what are you waiting for, doctor?"  
Sherlock's velvety voice and sentence brought John into an euphoria as he smiled deeply and stood before he adjusting his suit, he came with him where few couples were dancing together with the phlegmatic and relaxingly song.

Inside the restaurant, it was like dancing on the Northern Lights; beneath the dry-ice smoke swirled an array of blues, acid greens and silver. The music played over the dance floor as if had fused with the bodies. Sherlock always loved dancing. 

Dancing to Sherlock, was like turning back the clock, traveling and returning to a previous life full of hope and joy. He embraced the music and in turn the music took control of him. The only human being that captured his mind and body grabbed his hand. John's soft and warm hand.

Spinning, circles and shuffling their feet to the slow, evocative music. It was paradise, but even so more when their eyes met each other's. John's eyes were a warm ocean color after a thunder storm. They caused Sherlock's knees to buckle and his lips to quiver slightly. John narrowed his eyes a bit before chuckling softly. 

John pulled Sherlock's body closer to his, the height difference was now pretty clear. Sherlock inhaled John's scent as his chest heaved and touched John's, caused his cheeks burning in red all of a sudden. John's smirk grew bigger. "You're very adorable Mr Holmes." John leaned as he acclaimed in Sherlock's ear. 

"Another new adjective about myself." Sherlock arched back his eyebrows with a hint of smile. John's body close to Sherlock's; with his hand still grasping Sherlock's back.  
Sherlock wanted the song last forever. This way he didn't have to bring an excuse not to dazzle into John's eyes or his soft lips and sniffing his sweet maskuline scent.

'I'm wasting all my will  
No worries for you, my dear  
I wander all my years  
This journey is not mine

Faded roses in the backyard  
Reminding me of how long it has been  
Just a small place called our home  
With my heart, far from yours'

(Song: Roses by Ghostly kisses)

The sound of music went even slower, the lights slowly fading. John dropped Sherlock's hand and before Sherlock having time to frown to the lack of touch, John wrapped his arms around Sherlock's waist and pulled his body even closer to him. John's benevolent and sweet face met Sherlock. He felt John's sweet breath on his face. Sherlock felt right and secured in John's arms. His breath turned from short and trembling into relaxed and steady until one of John's hand slipped up as it began to fondle the back of Sherlock's hairs. This was when Sherlock's eyes got drunk and his lips parted. Sherlock witnessed the laughter glitter in John's magnificent eyes. 

I bet those lips taste heaven. Delete it! No save it! I said delete it. 

Sherlock saved it in his mind palace. 

"You look tired, do you want to go back to our room?" John gently asked, his fingers still massaging Sherlock's hair. Our room...   
"Excellent idea, Doctor." Sherlock agreed.

After John paid, they decided to hail a cab since they had walked enough for a day. Sherlock was still pondering about their dance. It was genuinely one of the best moments of his life. The way he was fondling him, those pair of eyes which were carrying sentiment towards Sherlock or his appeasing smile which every time melted Sherlock. He was reviewing the whole happened during today until something alarmed in his mind. John's messages, the sender of those massages should know Rosie perfectly since he had threaten John with her. John wasn't coping to tell Sherlock about those messages. 

When they got into the hotel, an old lady was about to check out with her four big suitcases in different sizes, Sherlock figured she was from Australia from her first word with the receptionist. John was asking for a cleaning in their room as the lady strode to Sherlock and John. 

"Excuse me son." She said tenderly to John while her eyes were checking out Sherlock as well. John turned to look at her. "How come you two gorgeous boys with these beautiful suits aren't wearing rings?" The lady asked fondly with a sly smile. Sherlock looked at John, he was blushing, bowed head, pinched lips and minimal eye contact with the woman.   
"We are not a couple." John stammered naively.   
"What a shame." The lady pouted her lips theatrically, somehow she knew Sherlock wasn't a type of talking person. She looked up and giggled.  
"I'm afraid you're standing under it and there's no way to evade it son." She said, John and Sherlock both looked up as Sherlock swallowed. There was a mistletoe above them. Sherlock rolled his eyes. Stupid traditions. 

"You mean.. oh." John licked his bottom lips. 

Don't do it for God's sake.

"Well it is what it is." The lady kept giggling. Sherlock has told John about kissing lips and the doctor wasn't allowed to do it.

"Well I have a terrible flu and since I'm a doctor i can totally say it's contagious by kissing." John faked a deeper voice to impress the lady with his lying. "Son, don't trick me. You don't have any sign of congestion nor gripping nor sore throat as you talk without gulping and not a runny nose. Do you want me to say more sunny boy?" The lady said determinedly as Sherlock raised an eyebrow. He liked her. She was accurate and meticulous on her deductions. John was gaping with an opened jaw. 

"Why everyone's smarter than me?" John murmured sarcastically pissed off of the current situation. 

Because you are my silly cute hedgehog. Wait. Did I say cute? Fuck...

"Alright then." John said. Sherlock looked at John admonishingly. "What do you mean alright?" Sherlock imitated John's voice. "Shut up Sherlock." John groaned.

He brought his hand as he picked Sherlock's chin and stood on his toes. Sherlock was sharply gazing at John, he was yelling inside at John and warning him. Sherlock's wide eyes were frightened if John wanted to kiss him to make him even more addicted to this man. But John just smiled sweetly at him as he brought his soft lips nearer as he kissed Sherlock's cheek. "Don't Be afraid, I'm not aiming to eat you." John whispered into Sherlock's ear, sending hot signals to Sherlock's brain.

He slowly left his chin from his touch as he stood back on his feet. Sherlock felt butterflies bursting out of his stomach as they fly through the hotel.

"Satisfied?" John said to the lady as she clapped.   
"That was the sweetest thing I've ever seen during years." She said, thumbs up as the bell boy started carrying her cases. John chuckled.  
"Take care of him young man. He's a good one." The lady said to Sherlock as she left the hotel. Sherlock touched his cheek where John kissed it. He couldn't guess the amount of blushing on his face. 

"She was very nice, wasn't she?" John's bright white teeth was making his smile more epic. Sherlock pried him more as he found how glad he was. All of a sudden all those stresses and sadness wiped out of the sandy haired man. He was looking at the lady which was getting far and far. Sherlock didn't say anything. He was memorizing the moment in his mind palace. He wanted to save it. John's soft lips on his cheek was something he enjoyed it. He even hadn't enjoyed like this with the person he used to love before.

John peered at Sherlock. "Are you okay, Sherlock?" John asked. Sherlock flinched and shook head.  
"Yes, perfectly." He said, decided to leave the awkward place sooner. "I think the room is cleaned by now." Sherlock claimed. John nodded in agreement as both got into their room. 

Sherlock went to the bathroom. He started splitting water on his face, washing it hardly. Delete what just happened right now or you are a loser again. 

Sherlock could feel the chemical connection between him and John. It was amazing. He hated someone kissing him but when John's lips touched his skin, he felt living in heaven. It was exquisite. His heart was still beating fast. 

Sherlock looked up to see himself on mirror. He brushed his hair back with his wet hands. 

What's wrong with you? It was nothing but a wised pretending. 

"Sherlock? Someone is at door for you." John said as Sherlock emerged out of the bathroom, tried not to look at John as he went at the door, seeing a girl which earlier they had exchanged numbers. "Coming?" The ginger haired lady said, her steel blue eyes were sparkling in excitement as she stepped closer to Sherlock, trailing her finger on the edge of his collar. 

"What room?" Sherlock asked dryly. He found her not as attractive as she used to be earlier today. All of a sudden he felt not satisfied. "807" the girl said flirtatiously. "I'll be there in 10 minutes." Sherlock said without waiting for a response as he slammed the door closed, walking to the room to get changed. 

"Where are you going?" John asked, putting the glass of red wine away before standing, his hands were resting on his waist. He had worn a sky blue shirt and jeans. Shows his blue eyes more.

"It's none of your business as far as I know." Sherlock said, he was rummaging into the closet for clothes. Sherlock was striving to put an end to John's patience. He should let him go. Let him go to his one night stand marathons. Sherlock wanted John's tolerance to be quenched because he was perfectly succeeding to own Sherlock physically, mentally and sexually. Human error was paralyzing Sherlock's whole system. It had to be stopped.

John rested his hand on the door frame. He looked sombre. "But it's Christmas, Sherlock." John said disappointedly, casting a skeptical eye on Sherlock.  
Sherlock didn't reply. John was following Sherlock's movements. 

Stop looking at me with your puppy eyes. 

John was very handsome in Sherlock's opinion but tonight he was even more enchanting. Radiant.   
He had refreshed his cologne. Sherlock normally refute people's choice of colognes but John was making him crazy with those fetching scents.

"I thought we could spend tonight together. At least on.." Sherlock looked at John with a clenched jaw, Stony stare, his eyebrows curled with excessive blinking in anger which cut John's speech automatically. 

"The fuck it is Christmas! I don't care John." Sherlock said with a gravelly voice as he started to undo his bow tie. John ran his fingers into his hair. "Alright. Screw the Christmas. But what about me? Don't you even a little care that I'm here? Tonight is the last day we're together in this trip and I really love to spend it with you, Sherlock. One night without sleeping with those chicks won't kill you." John said, his voice was a bit quavering and louder than normal. He flayed Sherlock with his eyes. Sherlock drilled John with eyeing him demurely.

"I'm not your damn poppet to play this stupid game with you. Oh lemme tell you something John! I don't care if I will see you for five more years or five more minutes." Sherlock said withdrawn attitude and more gruffly tune as he took off his shirt to change it with a black one which was on the bed. Sherlock dragged his hawkish eyes on him. John was chewing his bottom lips nervously. He was hurting it, flicker in his eyes while he took a gooey look at Sherlock. 

Don't... Stop it now. 

"Damn it Sherlock. You can't even see how much I.." John paused, kicked the door with his leg in aggression. Sherlock jumped faintly. He was pissed. His front hair was scattered in his forehead, his blue eyes smoldering. Sherlock never had seen John's rage before. 

"How much you what, John?" Sherlock asked loudly.   
"Don't ask something you know it's answer already Sherlock Holmes." John yelled, he looked at sherlock with an astute gaze. Yes. Sherlock knew it. John Watson was into him. But Sherlock thought his love of life was even in love with him before. He couldn't let John to break his already broken heart once again.

"I told you since the first day that I'm not into any kind of relationship, John." Sherlock rose his voice more. His voice was now horse and dense scowl was making his face chaotic. "Just get yourself a cute innocent girlfriend and stop hallucinating about me and you being one day together." Sherlock said as he started buttoning his black shirt. John was stomping, pacing around himself as if he was indecisive about his next act. He looked at Sherlock like a tiger watching a bunny. Sherlock could feel his cold fingers trembling, halting him to do his buttons.

"What if I'm an abnormal human who is into an asshole man who doesn't give a fuck about me? What if I was repelling all these cute girls to earn the stoned and cruel heart of yours?" John said by shouting. His vessels were vivid on his neck, his bleak eyes indicating the amount of truth. blood shedded around the wild ocean of his eyes. Sherlock was begging himself to give up and grab the man into a tight embrace, appeasing the angry man with his warm hug. Don't you dare Sherlock.

"I do not care about your fucking emotions, John." Sherlock said. Please hate me. John smirked sadly, looking at Sherlock scrutinized. 

"Then stop blowing hot and cold on me, Sherlock." John replied with sharp staring at the man inside the bedroom.

"Blowing hot and cold? What made you think like that?" Sherlock smirked. John squeezed his eyes with his hands, looking tired as ever.

"Okay... okay. You just want fun, right? Then let's give it to you." John said, his voice was huskier, he started walking to Sherlock while Sherlock stepped backward until his legs felt the edge of the bed, John grasped his unbuttoned shirt with his hands and stared brazenly into his eyes . 

"You did all of these to make me jealous. To make me show you I can do it better until you leave me sooner because you just want fun." John said through his gritted teeth with total anger as he ran his hand on Sherlock's groin. He was pingponging his gaze between Sherlock stunned eyes. A wince escapes from Sherlock's mouth by John's touch. 

"What are you doing John?" Sherlock's heart was breathing faster as he got scared by John's action. "To please you instead of that whore." John said, started unbuckling Sherlock's belt roughly. Sherlock was gloating at the doctor who was agitatedly unzipping his slacks. Is he going to do that? John didn't have boner. All he could see through John was a devastated broken man that had given up on Sherlock. Sherlock wondered how a sad broken man like John can be this captivating, those fierce angry eyes were alluring.

"John.." Sherlock said. "Shut up." John replied as he kneeled when he slipped Sherlock's slacks down to his knees. Sherlock hated himself when he saw John's moist eyes as he was gripping the hem of Sherlock's boxers."Just close your eyes and believe me, It will be your first and last longest orgasm ever." John said with frail voice, his breathes were rasping. Sherlock could feel his breathing hitting his thighs. John was grieving deeply, his eyes were pools of disappointment.

Sherlock's heart cringed at the sight of him. H felt a lump in his throat. If John was suggesting this few days ago, Sherlock was enjoying it at its best. He had imagined having a hot sex with John for many times. God knows how many times he came with or without touching himself while he was imagining dirty thoughts about John and himself together. But all he could felt was guilt and sadness instead of getting a boner. He never wished to end with John like this. He thought John'd leave him or sleep with him one of these nights and going away forever, just like other random people in his life.

"John, look at me." Sherlock said softly. "You think I can't please you as those junkies do? You think I'm a boring doctor who wants to overuse you?" John said, his voice turned into sobbing as he attempted to take his boxers down until he got stopped by Sherlock's hands on his. "Let me do it." John snuffled. "Look at me, John." Sherlock cupped John's wet face. He skipped a beat when he saw John's crimson lips out of crying. He wanted to kiss those lips. He wanted to hug him tightly, telling him how sorry he was. "You wanted this. Now I'm all yours to please you. It's my Christmas gift to you." John said sadly as his tears were blurring the bluish of his eyes. The eyes which were cupped by fleshy pouches while nest of wrinkles at the corner of his eyes were clearly shown.

"Please.. John." Sherlock whispered, he was holding his own tears. He was repleted with his emotions. John was struggling, Sherlock wrapped his hand around John's both wrists, John stood, attempting to fight with Sherlock to free his hands. "Let me go!" John raised his voice. "No." Sherlock answered softly instead. John was clumsily hitting Sherlock's chests to free his hands until he grabbed Sherlock's collar while his hands were still wrapped by Sherlock's long fingers. John gazed penetratively into Sherlock's eyes, Sherlock searched into them, finding the amount of agony in his stormy eyes.

"You machine... sod it, sod it." John said behind his teeth. Sherlock was sniffing John's scent as he closed his eyes indefensibly. 

John let it go, Sherlock opened his eyes finding John rubbing his eyes as tears were dripping like rain. He was weeping tears soundlessly. Sherlock loathed himself for making his doctor sadder than he was. John screwed his eyes shut for couple of seconds while tears were competing with each other to slip from the former soldier's face.

"I know nothing breaks like a heart Sherlock. I've been broken for years. How can I break your heart too? You think you're the only broken hearted man in this world?" John fisted his hands, glaring at the floor not to face Sherlock. Sherlock was feeling the ache in his heart. He hurt this man each time he pretended enjoying when he was out with strangers. John never showed how hurt he got to keep respecting Sherlock. 

"I'm not him Sherlock. You know I'm not him.." John murmured as he smiled sadly. Him?

"How.. how do you know it was a man?" Sherlock asked, his voice was weak, a bit raspy and stunned.

"I didn't know I saw it. I saw it on you Sherlock. You taught me how to deduce people." John paused as his reddish eyes were resembling his woe. "People are different. I've never felt you could do something like Mary did to me. But you hypnotized yourself as everyone's same and wants to fool you." John said, shaking his head slowly. 

Sherlock couldn't even argue with that. John was telling all the truth without any gaffe. "I'm not mad at you indeed, I'm mad at myself. At least you told me the truth from the first day I've met you." John murmured. Sherlock was watching blankly the man that was deeply craving him. John put his fingers into his hair, brushing them back as his forehead was fully shown. He was in need of a ventilation as Sherlock was looking at him concerned.

"Maybe Mary was right to leave me. There must be something unpleasant about me that everyone recoils me." John smirked sadly, looking down at the rug. You're way too far from being unpleasant, John. Sherlock was tired of his loud thoughts. He wanted to say real sentences. 

"I'm not jealous of the girl behind the door. She will have a hot short one night from you and all. I'm just jealous of your lucky bastard boyfriend which saw your emotions for himself. Something that I never can earn." John had tremor in his fingers. He didn't look fine at all. 

"John, you need to inhale." Sherlock uttered worriedly while he was himself feeling his heart pounding hard. John reached for the door knob as he took a glance back at Sherlock, his chaotic blue eyes retraced their path to Sherlock's one's, it caused Sherlock feeling something just burnt inside his chest. 

"Don't make her wait more." John said as he left their room without grabbing his jacket or even his mobile phone. Sherlock was fixed pants-less for a minute until he finally pulled up his slacks and sat on the edge of the bed. He watched the tremor on his hands. What have I done? How could I do that to John.. to my doctor.

Sherlock grabbed John's phone, watching their photos together on his screen. He saw his tears dripping on the screen. The picture brought him when he was talking about his life, his vacations. Sherlock never could listen to anyone more than thirty seconds but about John... everything was different. He could listen to him for hours, days and even more. His sweet smile, fetching voice and his profile when they were walking beside each other... they were all spectacular for Sherlock. He broke John into pieces. He did the same as he had experienced. Satisfied now? Sherlock hurt the man that cared about him so much while he was suffering from his depression, from the amount of stress for losing Rosie and bunch of threatening messages he was receiving every day. 

John was disappointed on Sherlock when he decided to blow him. He knew there wouldn't be anything between them so he tried his best to make this trip good enough for Sherlock. Sherlock broke his promise to Rosie. He took an oath to take care of John. Instead, he shattered him slowly. The doctor was worried about her daughter, scared and tired of frightening messages and now broken of senselessness of Sherlock.

Sherlock wiped his remained tears on his face, grabbing John's jacket. He sniffed it for few seconds. The mesmerizing sweet scent of his doctor. It was his anchor. Sherlock looked at the clock, it was a quarter to twelve. He decided to look for John in the streets near the hotel. He must have not getting far away. 

Sherlock was walking in the street, he was worried about John. He had searched a lot to find the owner of those scary messages. John had the right not to tell anything to him since all John did for sherlock got replied with Sherlock's cold treating. 

Sherlock was briskly walking to some streets that he could anticipate John would be there. There wasn't a lot of people walking since it was Christmas night. He saw a couple Snogging while there was a bouquet of red roses in the girl's hand. Sherlock stuffed his hands more into his trench coat after bringing his collars up until his cheek bones. It was freezing. He trembled with the thought of John getting out without any jacket.

He kept searching for an hour until a sound of an instrument got his attention. He started striding slowly to the source of the sound. There were people gathering around something which was producing the sound in the tiny Place de Furstemberg, maybe the smallest squares of Paris, located near the church of Saint-Germain-des-Prés.   
Sherlock walked nearer as he was hearing the beautiful sound of flamingo guitar. 

He passed through the crowed as his eyes got fixed on the owner of the sound. The wood in his hands, the strings under his fingers, the reverberation against his chest.   
The strings were stretched down a long, slim neck, its frets tarnished, the wood worn by years of fingers pressing chords and picking notes. The body of the Madeira was shaped like an enormous yellow pear, one that was slightly damaged in shipping. The golden fingers of its player was giving it a soul. Something that had gathered all the people around such as teenagers and adults all together to get warm by the catchy song. There was a guitar case in front of him as anyone wanted to give him money. 

Sherlock's eyes were smoothed and tranquilized by seeing him playing until his voice made his heart forgetting to beat properly. His velvety calming voice was amazingly correlated with the song. His eyes were closed as if no one was around him. Sherlock wanted to hug him tight in the coldness of the weather. He was playing on a piece of wood only with his sky blue shirt. John.

'What a wicked game to play, to make me feel this way  
What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you  
What a wicked thing to say, you never felt this way  
What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you and  
I don't wanna fall in love with you  
I don't wanna fall in love with you'

(Wicked game by Chris Isaak)

When the song got over, whistling and clapping were only things that Sherlock could hear. People started dropping money in the case as they were starting to leave the spot. Sherlock was watching John within his hands resting in his trench coat. John took the money as he left the broken old guitar. His eyes suddenly met Sherlock. Sherlock's lips twisted into a weak smile while his eyes were sad. John blinked some as he walked to his side.

"Aren't you suppose to be somewhere else?" John asked. "You will get cold, John." Sherlock softly said. "I'm a doctor, I'm familiar with all kinds of viruses, Sherlock." John softly answered as he walked to a small boy over there. He kneeled and put the money in his tiny hand after he whispered something in his ear before leaving him. Sherlock looked at his shoes while he was smiling. 

"How did you even find that guitar?" Sherlock asked when John joint him to walk. "Deduce me." John said, walking with him. Sherlock tingly smirked. "You bought it from an addict who was in need of his drugs with the few cash left in your shirt pocket because you wanted to earn money for this little kid because you left your jacket and wallet in hotel." Sherlock rapidly murmured as he took off his coat, putting it gently on John's shoulders. 

John looked at Sherlock as he stopped walking.   
"Together." A smile plastered on John's lips while he brought his hand for Sherlock to share the coat together. Sherlock smiled briefly as he bended a bit to share the coat with John. They walked back to their room. They walked mostly in silence except Sherlock asking when will Rosie have operation tomorrow. He liked Rosie. She made Sherlock having a soft spot for her, just like John Watson. But he had to tell him... tell him that he can't keep up like that. I have to end it.

Later when John was laying down on the bed, watching Grinch seriously as if it's a criminal documentary, Sherlock joint with space beside him while he was wearing his blue night gown.

"John, I need to tell you something." Sherlock finally said after minutes struggling in his mind that recently a chaos had begun in it. John didn't tear his gaze from tv.

"I appreciate it, Sherlock." John answered, downbeat and cheerless. He knew what Sherlock was about to say. "I'm sorry that i don't have same feelings as you have for me." 

Don't I? 

Sherlock was gazing at John's profile. "There's no need of being sorry, Sherlock. You don't owe me anything." John said, pursing his lips, his gaze was still fixed on the tv.

"I... I enjoyed this trip." Sherlock mumbled. John turned and looked at Sherlock. John lingered his look at him before running the back of his hand softly on Sherlock's cheek while he was dazzling at him cravingly. Sherlock fluttered his eyes half closed. John... 

"I genuinely had the best moments of my life in these three days with you. No matter how horrible few hours ago was for me, talking to you just for one minute makes everything seem perfect." John smiled tingly, running his hand off of his face and squeezing Sherlock's shoulder. He turned the tv off, letting the night stand illuminating the room only. He laid back as he put his head on pillow, turning his back not to face the taller man beside him. Sherlock was swearing himself. 

Maybe that's for the best. 

"Sherlock?" John asked, Sherlock raised his eyebrows as he turned to look at John's back. "Yes?" Sherlock replied. "Just for curiosity, why didn't you spend the night with that girl?" John asked. Sherlock laid his head on his pillow, looking at the ceiling while they were both were inches away from each other. "Don't be sure of your deduction, John." Sherlock dragged his sentence . John hummed slowly. Sherlock smiled slightly, letting John being in a dilemma whether Sherlock had slept with the woman or not.

"Goodnight, Sherlock." John murmured. "Goodnight John." Sherlock said as he rested his head on his pillow, staring at the ceiling while he was sunk in his painful thoughts. 

Because John, human error.


	8. Chapter eight

John's POV

"Stop it Jim. I'm begging you... I can't endure more pain... please.. not anymore.." John turned, finding Sherlock's sweaty face talking in his sleeping. The clock on night stand was showing 3:26 am. He was seeing nightmare. "Stop that Jim.." Sherlock was wailing. "Sherlock? open your eyes. It's me. John." John brushed his finger, stroking Sherlock's hair. Beads of sweat were forming on his face. "I'm here Sherlock. No one can hurt you." John leaned as he kissed Sherlock's forhead softly, causing Sherlock opening his eyes. "Jawn?" Sherlock said with a gruffly voice, he was scared. "Shhh.. I'm here Sherlock. It was only a nightmare." John whispered, he was still stroking Sherlock's hair, gazing at him from the above. 

Sherlock's long lashes were more obvious from this angle. He moved his eyes to see John. John smiled sweetly, he couldn't stop fondling those curly hairs. "Sorry to woke you." Sherlock muttered as John deepened his smile. "I'm always here for you." John insisted, he bended to grab a bottle of water as he poured it a bit in a glass, he held Sherlock's back gently after he brought the glass nearer. "Drink this." Sherlock nodded, he pulled himself upper to sit as he sipped the water from John's hand. "Thanks." Sherlock murmured.  
"Who's Jim?" John put the glass away. "What?" Sherlock furrowed his brows slightly, looking at John.  
"You kept saying this name when you were asleep. Jim." John claimed. Sherlock mouthed ah.

"He was my boyfriend." Sherlock answered, his attitude was glum. John saw the amount of sorrow on Sherlock's face. "He was very nice to me." Sherlock said. "Sherlock you don't have to" John got stopped by Sherlock's hand resting on John's lips. "It's okay." Sherlock said. John saw Sherlock's hand rested back on his chest from his mouth. "He was smart, a successful professor, very caring." Sherlock smirked bitterly. "He used to tell me every single day that he loves me." Sherlock said, shaking his head. 

"No one could find a hint that he was lying. Even me." Sherlock muttered, John's lips were downward. "He got married with a girl and told me it's just for earning money from her in return of giving her citizenship. Then he got a child and told me it was all coincident. I kept tricking myself until one day he told me I'm nothing to him but a ridiculous man for his boredom." Sherlock said, his voice had hatred.

"What made you getting scared of him?" John asked gently. Sherlock sighed, his pupils were fixed on a spot. "After our broke up, one day he came to me with a car. He told me he has a gift for me. I tried to ignore him but he obliged me to open the rear booth with a knife in his hand." Sherlock covered his face with his long fingers as he was grasping air. John didn't hesitate as he pulled Sherlock into a hug. A pair of arms wrapped around Sherlock's back, he was sniffing the sweet scent of the hurt man. Sherlock's face was buried into John's embrace, resting on his chest. John was brushing his fingers into Sherlock's hair, while his lips were touching those shampooed strands of hairs.

"It was his wife John... the poor dead woman. He had poisoned her... she was suffocated from the toxic." Sherlock's shuddered voice came out. Still he wasn't crying. John was admiring how strong he was. He could have shattered into pieces. "He threatened me to be with him again. I was fleeting for months from Jim until he gave up on me. My brother helped me to disguise from him."

"It's okay Sherlock..." John said softly as he was hugging him. "It's not okay." Sherlock insisted weakly. "No, it's not... but it is what it is." John whispered to his ear. "And whatever it was, is finished now." John said as he held Sherlock's face to see his eyes. Sherlock sniffed, his eyes were red and dried from any tears. "I don't let anyone ever do that to you again." John stated gently. "I'm always there for you even if you forget there is a John Watson." John smiled. Sherlock nodded, his lips crooked a bit upward. 

"Get some sleep, Sherlock." Sherlock nodded as he rested his head back to his pillow. John laid back beside him after he covered Sherlock with his blanket. "Thank you John." Sherlock stuttered, he was facing John. 

"Anytime, Mr Holmes." John answered with a dulcet tune along with a hint of whimsical as he was facing him on bed. Sherlock's staring made John's heart doing a flip-flop. A smile danced across John's lips. Sherlock trailed a finger on John's cheek. "Sherlock." John breathed, timidly looking at the sleepy man next to him. Sherlock's sleepy eyes swayed closed as he went to sleep. John smiled fondly before closing his eyes, joining Sherlock in sleeping.

Next day after packing, they both checked out to go to airport, getting a small brunch in the free shop as they received on time when the flight was boarding the passengers. John was sitting next to Sherlock in their first class section. John knew Sherlock's steeple and his closed eyes was representing him in his mind palace. 

John was repleted with stress as he was feeling butterfly in his stomach. Rosie had seven hours surgery today. John had promised her to be there when she got her consciousness. Now John was a dead man walking as Moriarty had told him. He also didn't have any chance with Sherlock regarding to what he said last night. John was scared to lose Rosie as well. He would be devastatingly broken. With the difference that this time he couldn't restart a new life. It will be the end of John Hamish Watson.

"John?" Sherlock murmured. John flinched as he turned to look at him.  
"Ye- yes, Sherlock." John stuttered.  
"I've been calling you for minutes. What is it, John?" Sherlock frowned tingly as he asked. John couldn't find any worries in his attitude since Sherlock was a king of hiding his emotions.

"For the first time in my life.." John paused as he cleared his voice. Sherlock narrowed his eyes as he was focusing on John. "I'm scared." John ended his sentence. The courageous captain of war, doctor of many fatal injured soldiers was scared now. "John, just tell me his name. I can catch him." Sherlock said, John smiled bitterly. 

"The least I think is about him." John said softly, Sherlock looked deeper at John's profile. "I'm scared of losing my daughter." John admitted, his gaze on the black screen of the small tv in front of himself. The only one that loved back John was going under doctors knives. She was weak and her cancer was too malignant as John was pretty aware of its functions. 

"She's going to be fine." Sherlock's soft murmuring got heard by John. "I hope so." John insisted. The flight didn't have any turbulence. It was sunny and calm except inside of John. He refused every meal that was brought to him. He took few texts from Molly, saying that Rosie had been sent to the operation room. 

He wished he could talk to Sherlock. He was badly in need of releasing himself. But he wanted to have a nice goodbye to the heartless man beside him. John knew he couldn't meet Sherlock anymore. He had to hide himself after getting sure about Rosie's health. Obviously Sherlock didn't care what will happen to John Watson but John knew he will miss Sherlock terribly. 

"Sir, may I serve your meal for you?" John heard it from a girlish voice, he turned his head up to see her. She was blond, a red lipstick was making her beauties double. Her honey amber eyes sparkled when John looked at her. "I'm not hungry." John murmured. This was the third time getting asked by her. "Then let me adjust your pillow for a short nap, sir." The girl stated as she leaned and held John's shoulder. Sherlock was somehow looking at the whole process, judging by his breathing, hitting to John's neck. 

John took the pillow from her gently not to let her slipping her hand more on his shoulder. She smirked meaningfully to John while she just earned John's poker face. "Anything else for you, sir?" She asked coquetted. John lingered his standoffish glare at her a bit. "Just don't drop your stuff on me, please." John said, handing back the piece of paper that she had wrote her number on it. The girl flushed in crimson as she grabbed the paper and took a glance at Sherlock before leaving them annoyed. 

"Since when doctor Watson is brutal?" Sherlock asked in low pitched tune, flirtatiously. John cocked his lips up and traveled his gaze on Sherlock. "Says the king of brutality." John taunted suavely, Sherlock gazed back at John with prodigy. It was when John smiled sweetly, knowing he couldn't find more chances like this. He was memorizing Sherlock eyes with his own companionate dazzling. 

"What?" Sherlock murmured softly. John's heart melted like butter on hot toast at the sight of Sherlock. Maybe Sherlock couldn't appreciate how much John loved him. But John was aware that Sherlock had a soft spot for the Doctor.

"Nothing." John whispered. The humidity of his heart increased rapidly. There was no looking back, he had fallen in love with a curly brunette and there was nothing he could do but love him with every ounce of his body as it tingled uncontrollably. He had to smile because Sherlock had brought John joy, something that John thought was out of his life once and for all. Even though he had treated John's heart with his recoiling. 

"Then what is it with this face?" Sherlock arched back an eyebrow. "What is wrong with my face?" John asked, naively self defending. He could feel it on the back of his tongue, all of the words getting trapped in his lungs. Sherlock's smile hardened on his lips, his eyes gazed at John delightedly. "I'm not good with words to describe it, John." Sherlock murmured. "Maybe just the first word comes to your mind is enough." John said, shrugging gently. 

Sherlock was shifting his eyes between John's eyes until he opened his mouth to speak. "Beautiful." Sherlock almost whispered. John couldn't believe if it came out of Sherlock's mouth. Sherlock's eyes shined as dawn on a dazzling summer's day. He noticed John's stunned face. "I thought you don't care." John teased. "Doesn't mean I can't appreciate it." Sherlock said as he fastened his belt. "We're landing, doctor." Sherlock stated. John blinked some as he got himself together, he fastened his belt.

When they got to the airport, John felt the amount of dread in himself. Fear of losing Sherlock and Rosie were quite bloodcurdling. The illusion of him and Sherlock in a carefree relationship was over. They got their cases as they headed out of the airport. Shower rain was started from the dark dense clouds of London, John suggested to give a ride to Sherlock to his flat since his car was parked in the airport parking lot.

The windshield wiper was moving fast due to the heavy rain hitting the front glass. Lindsey Stirling's violin was softly playing in the car, John was resting his hands on the steering, fixing his gaze at the front while Sherlock was watching out by his window side.

"Do you have a death wish, John?" Sherlock's sudden question broke the silence, John took a glimpse at Sherlock and back to the road with a confused scold. "What do you mean?" John asked. "Do you like to die?" Sherlock repeated his question other way. "I don't still get what you mean by that, Sherlock." John said, taking some glances to Sherlock from the car mirror. Sherlock shifted his position to face John's profile. "You're threatened to get killed and you still don't give a heck about it." Sherlock muttered, his tune was stern while his face was out of any frowning.

"First, I need to stay with Rosie for her recovery. Second, I am planning to hide for a while till I can come up with a logical plan." John paused, tearing his gaze from the road to Sherlock while they stopped at the red light among other cars. "And last, it doesn't make difference to you whether I'd be dead or alive. You told me to stop contacting you." John said soothly within his peaceful tinge smile. Sherlock sneered as John had said a stupid joke.

"Tell me his name, John. There's no need to be worried about me." Sherlock stated relaxedly. John remained in silence. He didn't want Sherlock or Rosie get in danger to save his ass. "Okay." Sherlock muttered as he slipped his hand into his trench coat pocket and started sending message from his phone.

John frowned slightly as he took a look at sherlock. "Who are you texting, Sherlock?" John asked.  
"It is none of your business, Doctor." Sherlock drawled as he finished typing. "Sherlock, whatever it is in your head just throw it out because I won't let anyone help me with this." John demanded, raising his eyebrows and turning the steering to the left.

"Accurate." Sherlock muttered. John knew he was lying. Sherlock had told John about his brother, Mycroft. Literally he was the British government with all authorities. John was sure none of Moriarty's messages were signed with his name and he had sent messages each time with different numbers. There wasn't any worries finding it out by Mycroft. But John wasn't sure about Sherlock. He was too smart. He had told Molly not to give any miscues to anyone. They didn't even say anything during phone calls or messages. John knew Moriarty could easily access Rosie and kill her.

"By the way, I told Molly to keep an eye on Ms Hudson's therapy process." John said. "So I won't see you in any circumstances again." Sherlock said, his gaze moved on front from his phone. For a single second, John felt disappointment in Sherlock's tune.

"Well, this is what you've asked.. not seeing each other again. isn't it?" John asked with a fondly voice.

"Yes it is." Sherlock's reluctant answer almost shattered what had remained in his heart. The genius photo model didn't have any sentiments toward John Watson. A total crestfallen answer from a flat smoky voice. Love hears and speaks with the wisdom of the heart, with a sense of the soul of the other and John not only loved Sherlock's beauties but also his soul. But the icy blue eyed man didn't have same feelings toward the sandy silver haired man.

Few minutes later John made a brake in front of Sherlock's flat. This is the end? John immediately got out of the car to carry Sherlock's case while Sherlock attempted to take the case himself as their hands met each other's. John hardened his gaze on Sherlock's soft and long fingers on his hand. "Thank you, John." A honeyed low pitched voice murmured softly as it brought John back to real world. John nodded before standing, watching Sherlock opening the door as he put the case on the porch. He turned back to look at the doctor. 

"Thanks for everything, John. I enjoyed Paris and.. and I hope hearing a good news from Rosie's surgery from.. from Molly." Sherlock said, this time with some stuttering. John smiled, fighting with himself not to get damp eyes. Oh my god, this is really the end.

"I am very thankful indeed. You came with me to Paris against your norm of lifestyle.. you really made me feel better, Sherlock. I.. i really mean it." John coughed, gulping to buy two seconds to think of his last words.  
"I.. i wish you the best." John said with a semi brittle tune. He could feel the trembling in his voice. John was choking on his hatred. He could feel the temperature on his face causing by resisting not to cry. 

Sherlock nodded slightly, leaning a single hand on door frame. "Thank you, John." Sherlock's flat voice replied John while his eyes were prying on the man in front of him. His eyes were giving a glare that was freezing John's bones, like being nude in the middle of a hailstorm, where every chunk of ice was a frosted dagger cutting into his skin. No, it's not the goodbye I wanted. At least John could use from the last moment not to get more disquieted than he was. 

John cleared his voice. "Sherlock can I ask you something?" John said half quietly. Sherlock tilted his head briefly. His eyes were wide, his lips parted. "Go on."   
"I know it's too absurd but.. can I, well.. can I hug you?" John asked, smiling as if he had asked a silly thing. 

If Sherlock felt with his heart, he could care and not scare, they could heal and bring ointment to invisible wounds in the hope they can be reduced to scars and fade in time... but the point was, he was ruling his own heart.

Sherlock's POV

Sherlock felt his heartbeat accelerating. He could see the bereavement in John's voice like a man that had lost his beloved spouse recently. His face were forlorn, his ocean eyes were fighting with his inner not to burst with tears. His doctor wanted to hug him for the last time. Sherlock strode a step down to stand on the asphalt as he nodded briefly in agreement, his dazzling fixed on John, there was a faint curve to his lips, but there was no crease below his icy eyes, no movement of the cheeks.

It was when John walked up to Sherlock, a pair of strong arms wrapped around his body as Sherlock just sunk into the warmth of his side, bathing in his swaddle of John's chest with the smell of sauvage Dior and his seductive scent. Sherlock couldn't hide the speed of his own chest coming up and down as it was pressing to John's one. His hands weren't hugging John back. He was dying of the prison that he had built for himself. He wanted to squeeze John hardly, clenching him tight in his embrace but all he was doing was sniffing John's hair. 

"Sherlock..." John whispered into his ear while he was rubbing his hand gently on Sherlock's back. Sherlock's hands were sore at the want of hugging the shorter man back. 

"You're the trap I've been wanting to fall into my whole life and liberty from you would simply be an infinite prison for me." John's soft murmuring just melted him. Sherlock hardly managed to hold the hatred which was choking him. How hard it was to hold the fire inside himself. He gotta let it out, wanted to lash out.  
Please stop before I lose this battle once again.

Sherlock kept telling himself sentiment is a chemical defect found in the losing side. But what he really assumed from million times repeating this sentence to himself was I guess I'm a loser now. His heartbeats were million miles an hour; one that left his knees weak; one that made his brain freeze. 

Sherlock was sure if he wrapped his hands around John, he'd not let him go forever and it was scary. Scary as if everything repeated again. Fear of another breaking while he wasn't survived from the first one. John was the biggest enigma in Sherlock's life. Formidable to trust him while he was a cradle to Sherlock's damaged heart.

John gently broke the hug as he stood back a step. Sherlock disguised his tremulous hands in fists, regretting himself for letting the man go without touching him. John's soft lips stretched into a smile but didn't quite reach his dark blue eyes. They were lit with sadness and the forced expression of the contrary on his mouth would have looked comical if it didn't make Sherlock's heart heavy. 

For couple of seconds Sherlock stared at him, almost sure John's expression mirrored him. It broke Sherlock's heart more. He didn't want John to leave. 

"Please take care of yourself." John hardened his smile. "You too." Sherlock's voraciously gaze was vividly against his cold and short sentences. "Goodbye, Sherlock." John fluttered his eyes closed and open compassionately. "Goodbye, John." Sherlock answered, watching the doctor turning back and getting in his car as he roared his car to life and got far from where Sherlock was standing.

Sherlock got inside, carrying his small suitcase with himself in as he closed the door behind him. Ms Hudson had told him she will be back in Baker Street in two days. The flat was still perfectly clean. John had cleaned everywhere that night. He dropped himself on his leather couch after taking his long trench coat off and throw it on the front sofa. His tired eyes spotted a big papered pack on the table in his kitchen. It wasn't there when he wanted to leave. It could be from Mycroft. 

Sherlock walked out to his kitchen, curiosity obliged him to move his tired feet. There was a folded paper on the beige pack. Sherlock unfolded to read the contain. 

Merry Xmas, Brainy ;)  
JW

There was something solemn swimming in Sherlock's eyes when he read it. His lips cocked into a smile and spots of gold danced into his irises as it grew to swallow the blue of his eyes. John was the only one who was believing in Sherlock's intelligence while others used to call him freak. 

The despairing chill that they conveyed made him feel heartbroken. How he let himself to lose John. Sherlock started unwraping the paper. It was big and a bit heavier than his anticipation. Sherlock's gaze fixed when he saw what was hiding between the papers. His painting. The one that John had drown him in his house. Naked Sherlock laying on John's royal sofa. 

Sherlock loved the way John illustrated the softness of the skin, the sexual desires in Sherlock's eyes while a tinge hollow was spread all over the drawing as an angelic man was lying there. Detailed and beautiful. Sherlock put the rose gold framed painting on the couch, he was agitated, angry, sad and mad. 

He ruffled his hair hardly, messing the curly strands. He scanned his tiny living room as he spotted the glassy ashtray. He grabbed it and suddenly yelled ghastly within throwing the ashtray to the wall and witnessing it breaking into million pieces on the floor. Sherlock was grasping for air. He didn't know when his fury turned into tears. He could feel water coming out of his eyes. Sherlock turned back as he saw himself on the mirror above the fireplace. He was genuinely crying. They were real tears. He didn't know when was the last time he had cried. 

The tears burst forth like water from a dam, spilling down his face. He felt the muscles of his chin tremble like a small child, he looked toward the window, as if the light could soothe him. The sobs were stifled at first as he attempted to hide his grief, then overcame by the wave of his emotions he would break down entirely, all his defences washed away in those salty tears. Now Sherlock could hear what does his crying sound. His fingers were nonstop wiping the tracks of tears on his face. 

He wanted to see his doctor, the man with his cute smile, his dark blue eyes looking as if an ocean had been encased inside of small glass marbles. The man that awkwardly used to blush when he was turned on by Sherlock's theatrically dirty actings. The man that caused Sherlock hearing the sound of his own chuckling. The man that enjoyed solving enigmatic cases with Sherlock. And more importantly, the only man that was worried about Sherlock. And now he's gone. 

Sherlock rushed to his bedroom, he took couple of sedative pills as he dropped himself on his bed, begging his eyes to get heavy to forget his painful thoughts. It didn't take much until his eyes fluttered closed as he went into a deep sleep and didn't hear his phone buzzed for a new message.

John's POV

He could still sniff Sherlock's scent in his car, still seeing his eyes which were like fire in water or still hearing the baritone of his voice reverberating through John's bones. His Bentley was obliged to drive breathtakingly fast. Agony and stress were mingled through John's soul. He didn't notice how rapidly he reached in the hospital as he parked his car carelessly. 

It was the first time his hospital was fearful. bewilderment was spread all over his mind. This life was way too far from his dreamy one. In his dreams, John kept imagining Rosie with her long bond hair, healthy and happy while she lives with his both dad. Yes. John and Sherlock. 

John nimbly strode the corridor steps to catch elevator while he ignored getting called by the entrance secretaries, those girls which were striving to hit on him. John pressed the button, dialing Molly. He knew Rosie's surgery must've been finished by now. 

"Molly I'm in hospital, where are you?" John said immediately after hearing Molly picking up the phone. "John, just come to the room operation two." Molly stated a bit nervously, she didn't wait for John's answer as she hung up. John brushed his fingers into his hair, stress spread through his mind like ink on paper. John took in deep, ragged breath as he emerged out of the elevator, rushing to the hallway, spotting Molly by her pony tail, standing in front of the closed entrance door of the operation room.

"Molly, how's Rosie?" John asked, he sucked for air cause of running all the halls along. Molly took a semi long glance at John while she was hitting her pen annoyingly on and off. "The operation went really well but.." Molly said wobbly, she was trying not to stare at John's wide eyes. "But what Molly? Talk!" John raised his voice upper, his tune angry and his face frightened. 

"The doctors transfused enough blood units to her but her-" John caught Molly's lingeringly speech. "Stop blabbering and talk!" John could fill his face flushing in rage and his hands freezing in fear. Molly flinched from John's shouting.

"Her surgery disrupted blood flow to her brain. It's.. its-" Molly mumbled when she saw John's parted lips. "vertebrobasilar circulatory disorders" John murmured as he finished Molly's sentence. He held the wall with a hand as he unbuttoned his first button, touching his throat as if something had stuck in it. He felt world was collapsing. 

"She's connected to respiratory system at the moment." Molly almost whispered, she was looking woefully at the mentally damaged doctor in front of her. John didn't last as he finally bursted, he held his face not to let Molly watching his tears. He was deeply broken. It was when Molly stood on her toes, wrapping John into her embrace. John rested his forehead on her shoulder while tears didn't let him to hug her back.

"John, she will be okay. She can fight with it." Molly was whispering into his ear, John knew it was for solacing.

"My baby girl... she's too young, Molly." John sobbed, weeping tears. Molly was patting his back. "Rosie will be okay, John." She murmured weakly as if she knew herself that was not a truth. John laid back at the wall and slid down to sit on the floor. He held his head between his hands as he stared at a spot. "John, you shouldn't be here." Molly decided.

John ignored Molly. His tears were still covering his cheeks, his nightmare had com true. "John, please." Molly said, she tried to keep her voice firm to sound determined.

"I need to see her." John's wobbly voice came out weakly as he looked up to meet Molly's worried eyes. "Just few minutes, okay?" Molly asked gently. John closed his eyes in agreement while tear slid down on his cheekbones. He stood up with Molly's help as he strode the VIP ICU where Rosie was laying down on a bed with mask on her face while many pipes were connected to it. John's eyes met her daughter from the window. She was peacefully sleeping. Her skin was paler, skinnier and it cringed John's heart terribly. 

He opened the door and didn't let Molly to complain as he was already in. John closed the door, slowly walking to Rosie's bed. He stood beside the bed, scanning her beloved daughter. John frowned densely not to weep more tears. His eyes shifted to her peacefully asleep face again and became glazed with a glassy layer of tears. As John blinked, they dripped from his eyelids and slid down his cheeks. He bit his lip tightly in attempt to hide any sound that wanted to escape from his mouth; his heart sank.

His lower lip quivered as words slowly made their way out of his mouth. "Open your eyes, Rosie" he began, yet what followed was engulfed in the tremors.  
He leaned briefly and take Rosie's tiny little hand. "Open your eyes for me... for daddy." Hatred deeper into his bones, John kissed her hand softly before letting her hand go. "John, here is not safe" Molly said after opening the door.

"I don't care anymore. I don't have a life anymore, Molly." John muttered, his gaze still on Rosie. Molly took couple of steps to where John was staying. "Rosie needs her dad alive." Molly said quietly. John shifted his head slightly and looked at Molly. "Nothing will happen to me." John stated before he leaving the room. Molly followed him to the hall. "John, don't be stupid!" Molly raised her voice. John sat on waiting room chair ignorantly as he crossed his arms. Molly looked brash and pissed. "I don't want my only friend to get killed, John. If you don't fucking care about your fucking self then think about how can I get along with your death!" Molly let out what was inside her loudly which caused the two nurses taking some glances at them. John was glaring at the front wall. 

"I'm already a dead man." John decided. "What about Sherlock? Don't you want to see him again?" Molly asked. John teared his gaze back to Molly. "He said he doesn't want to see me again." John arched back his eyebrows, he could watch himself on the dark eyes of Molly. He looked tired. "John.. I'm sorry." Molly whispered, John nodded with a slightly smile.

"Have a seat." John patted the seat beside himself as Molly sat there politely. John stared at his own hands. "Every night, when I go to sleep. I escape from this world to somewhere else... somewhere that I always wished for it. I see myself having family. I see Rosie happy and healthy, with long blond hair coming back from school with.." John sighed, more like a shattered exhale. Molly wiped a single tear on her cheek. "With Sherlock taking her hand. I can see his emotions there. I can feel Sherlock in my dreams. I can feel how does happiness feel. I love when I get into sleep, Molly." John smiled sadly.

"I want to get into a permanent sleep which I can live with my daughter and the love of my life." Molly sniffed, endeavoring to wipe more tears now.  
"I want to die, Molly. Death will let me stay with them forever." John scratchy voice blurted out. "Stop it." Molly wrapped her mouth with her hand as she stop herself from crying.

John brought his hand and held Molly's shoulder, she leaned her face on his shoulder. "Don't be sad, buddy. I'm still stuck in this fucking hospital." John said, Molly snorted. "You better be." Molly demanded. 

Sherlock's POV

A/N: Smut warning ⚠️ if you don't want to read smut, just skip the italic font paragraphs. It's actually not a full smut but anyway. (I guess no one skips smuts lol)

"Are you ready, Sherlock?" Ms Hudson's calling was coming from downstairs. "Just a sec, Ms Hudson." Sherlock answered loudly, he put on his trench coat as he strode the steps out. Ms Hudson had already hailed a cab, they got in the taxi as it drove to the hospital, another boring therapy session. 

Ms Hudson was waiting outside of the her therapy section to get called by nurse. She was sitting beside Sherlock, while he was scrolling up and down on what Lestrade has sent him. "By the way Sherlock, I took an appointment for you. It's in the same  
Floor as we are." Sherlock frowned as he turned his screen off. "What for?" Sherlock asked. "For the pain in your hip, Sherlock. It could be dangerous. You should get seen by a doctor." Ms Hudson insisted. "Christ, Ms Hudson how many time should I say don't settle anything before telling me." Sherlock muttered. "Stop badgering young man." Ms Hudson giggled, Sherlock grunted as he stood and walked out to where he had appointment. 

When he arrived, a middle aged nurse escorted Sherlock in an examination room. She took some blood tests, checked his blood pressure and temperature. "Doctor will be in shortly." She smiled politely before leaving Sherlock alone. 

A few minutes passed and a knock came the door followed by the door opening. Sherlock spotted John coming inside as he closed the door behind him. Damn it...  
"Good Morning Mr Holmes. I've informed you've pain in your hip." He said, pretending like nothing had happened, his super cleaned white lap coat was fighting with those white teeth from his sweet smile. Sherlock craved for it.

"Bad news travels fast." Sherlock snapped, he laid back to his seat arrogantly as he was prying the doctor. John smirked as he walked to Sherlock and handed him a light blue gown. "Put it on after you removed your pants and underwear but don't tie the gown in the back. When you were ready just lie here on the table on your left side and I'll be right back in a minute." John said gently and winked before leaving the office. Sherlock was still processing his cute gestures. 

Sherlock did as he instructed and laid, waiting on his left side with the gown open and breezy to the backside. John came back just on time. 

Sherlock was trying to behave as smug as he usually was. 

"Okay Mr Holmes, I'm gonna do a testicular exam, making sure we do not have any lumps to worry about and then I do a prostate test on you." He stated while he was putting on gloves and pouring lubrication on his hands, which brought Sherlock to his dirty thoughts. "It's a simple pain in hip. Why should I get examined from there?" Sherlock asked with a frown. "Pain source can trick you sometimes. It's vital to get examined there, Mr Holmes." John insisted with his faint sweet smile.

"That crowns it all." Sherlock muttered, rolling his eyes. "It's the thin edge of the wedge, Mr Holmes." John smirked as his hand met his bare thigh. John walked to stand behind where Sherlock was laying. He couldn't see the doctor now which was annoying. The lube was cold and John's hand was quite warm. Using his knuckles to apply deep pressure in his inner thigh. When John dragged the back of his hand across Sherlock's nut, he didn't apologize. 

Sherlock was sure that John had noticed his erection that had started from the first second he started to touch his thigh. Sherlock's cock gave a slight twinge of enjoyment. John reached for his balls, he very gentle started touching them. The bulge in his pants pressed against his backside and Sherlock thought. Wait... is he hard?

Sherlock could feel John's crotch rubbing against Sherlock's right ass cheek. Sherlock closed his eyes and was enjoying the examination. John pulled Sherlock further back in the table. "Just relax, Sherlock." John whispered. Sherlock heard a weird sound like a zipper maybe? 

John lifted his right buttock with his left hand and rubbed the lubricant over his anus. Sherlock could feel his muscles flex and twitch in joy. His finger slowly moved deeper inside Sherlock. Now Sherlock realized John had taken off his gloves. He could then pick up a quiet slippery sound from his behind. Was he stroking? 

Soon he added two more fingers to loosen his hole more. Quiet moaning was escaping from Sherlock's mouth. "What do you want Sherlock?" A quiet raspy voice came out of John's throat. Sherlock was deadly horny. "You." He murmured within moaning. "Where?" John asked. "Inside me, John." 

Sherlock just woke up, finding himself came on his stomach with a warm load of his cum. He was dreaming John fucking him. Sherlock was still gasping. He took a tissue from the night stand beside him and started wiping himself off of his fluid. Not only he wanted to sleep with John but also he wanted to kiss him, love him and take care of the broken doctor. Sherlock couldn't deny how madly he was in love with the sandy haired man. 

When his breathing got steady, he checked his phone, Mycroft still hasn't sent any info about the identity of the man who threatened John. Sherlock didn't have any way rather than waiting for Ms Hudson to get back to Baker Street and accompany her into the hospital for her therapy. This way he could meet Molly to gain some information furtively. Sherlock was also too curious to know if Rosie has come successfully out of the surgery room or not. He literally hated all the children but Rosie was smart, sweet and lovely to him. 

John's POV

For the next two days John was waiting behind Rosie's door room, he didn't sleep more than one hour, he didn't eat anything except two cups  
of coffee. Dark circles were forming under his puffy eyes, he looked thinner. Molly tried all the ways to convince John finding a secure place for himself but John only wanted to hope Rosie will open her eyes while his dad is there with her. 

On the third day, John was resting his head on Rosie's bed while he was sitting on a chair beside her bed. He was asleep. Molly was too occupied since she had to handle the whole hospital and the responsibilities instead of his boss, John. She was deadly worried about John, that's why Molly had told the hospital guards to consider every ways in case someone wanted to harm Doctor Watson. 

John could hear Sherlock's voice pitching to his ear as he was saying a name over and over again. Jim. John opened his eyes as sanity retired. His heart was beating fast as he realized the truth. The man, Sherlock's lover was the same man as Rosie's dad. Jim Moriarty. The man that left his lover to marry a woman, having a daughter and then he left his family to get back to his love. The man that ruined everyone for his temptation.

Now John knew why Moriarty didn't want him to adopt Rosie. Because John was deeply in love with Sherlock Holmes. "Doctor Watson? Station has paged you. It's an urgent patient." A nurse just said after opening the door gently. "I'm not seeing any patient for now."John's tired gruffly voice came out. "It's a dead worried mother for her sick child. Please take a look, Doctor." The nurse endeavored to change John's mind and she succeeded. John sighed as he stood, kissed Rosie's forehead. "Daddy will come back soon." He whispered to his unconscious daughter as he followed the nurse that he hadn't seen her before.

Sherlock's POV

Sherlock was sitting beside Ms Hudson in a cab to get to the hospital. Since Ms Hudson had received in Baker Street, Sherlock expected her to ask too many questions about the cleaned flat or the painting that was still on the sofa but instead she pretended nothing had happened while Sherlock could perfectly deduce that Ms Hudson was stealthy taking some worried looking at him. She knew something had changed in him.

"Sherlock, you should show your hip to a doctor." Ms Hudson just said after god knows how much time spending in silence. Sherlock scoffed suddenly, remembering his wet dream two days ago. "Don't say that you took an appointment for me, Ms Hudson!" Sherlock stated, looking frightened at her.

"Why should I do that? Of course not, Sherlock. It was just a suggestion." She said, shrugging. Sherlock just sighed in relief as he laid back to his seat.

As they got to the hospital and Ms Hudson got into her room to start her session, Sherlock started peeking around to find John's secretary. He was walking around carefully not to face with the doctor. He couldn't meet him again. Especially after John had made Sherlock's heart getting once again open to love. He was deadly in need of Sneaking up on John quietly. His heart desired this man every second.

"Excuse me? You are Mr Holmes, right?" Said a female voice from behind, Sherlock turned back while his hands were resting in his long trench coat, he stepped a bit to her. "I believe I am." He said with gazing precisely at her. It was Molly Hooper. "I'm doctor Watson's secretary." Molly said coyly. "I know." Sherlock answered dryly. Molly gently grabbed Sherlock's sleeve to stay in a corner. She cleared her throat. Sherlock was examining her. She hadn't slept properly. She was stressed out, her eyes were puffy with dark circle forming under her eyes.

"I know you'd not care but John is not in a good situation right now." She said rapidly as if someone was chasing him. "I'm not his mother." Sherlock answered. Shut up Sherlock.

"I do believe the only one that can save him is you." Molly said, her attitude somber and pensive while she was looking at Sherlock entreatingly. Sherlock felt his stomach started burning as anxiety spread to his body. Saving him?

"Why is he-" Sherlock stopped, his eyes got wider. "Is Rosie fine?" He immediately asked. Molly looked down and started shaking his head gently. Sherlock's pupils constricted in horror, he held his breath. "She is in coma and there is almost no chance for her to get back." Molly replied sadly. Sherlock felt an ice bucket just had dropped on him, he couldn't believe that cute lovely girl he talked to was now half dead. John... this could excruciate John. 

"Where is John?" Sherlock loosened his scarf around his neck. He couldn't let his doctor to be alone while her daughter was challenging between death and life. He jeopardized his life to sea Rosie healthy and now he had lost almost everything. "He is with Rosie all the time. He hasn't eaten anything." Molly said. "Take me to them, Molly." Sherlock decided to break his stupid rules and meet John. He needed to see him. Molly nodded and they went to the elevator as she pressed a button.

"He tells me about you all the time." Molly softly said, looking at Sherlock while he was staring at the scenery from the glassy lift. "Like what?" Sherlock murmured. Molly smiled sadly and joint Sherlock to gaze at the scenery. "He once said he could clearly see how much Sherlock Holmes appreciates emotions, but he believes sentiments obstruct him from thinking logically." Molly paused as he turned to look at sherlock which he was looking at her now, knowing she wasn't done with her speech.

"Sometimes logic is not solving problems, Mr Holmes. Life is too short and I think it worths a try to take risks even if you've failed many times." Molly said gently. Sherlock traveled his gaze from Molly's dark eyes to his shoes. "John loves you, Sherlock." Molly said, this time quietly. Sherlock skipped a beat. The doctor loved him? "How do you know?" Sherlock frowned within squeezing his eyes at Molly. "I don't know, I see. You need to open your eyes." Molly said and the elevator got open as she walked out of it. 

Sherlock knew that John had given his mind palace a soul, a warmth that he hadn't thought how empty was the lack of it. John proved Sherlock many times that he had strong feelings  
towards him but arrogance and fear had brought Sherlock million miles away from the reality. Sherlock wanted to be brave once again and let John own his heart. John could heal or ruin his heart and this could be the best gambling that Sherlock aimed to do to himself.

He missed John's scent, his kind dazzlings, his voice. His Watson dosage was low in his body and soul. Sherlock decided to earn John's heart.

He followed Molly to a long hall and they stopped at the VIP ICU as Molly gently knocked on the door. There was no answer. "John? May I come in?" Molly softly said from the other side. There was no answer again. Sherlock brushed his fingers through his curly hair, ruffling them a bit. He didn't know why his brain was a violent whirl of stress as it was propagating all over his body. Molly was still calm. She decided to open the door, Rosie was lying back on hospital bed unconsciously with multiple pipes in her mouth and nose. Sherlock gulped, his heart just cringed at the sight of her. There was a chair beside the bed. Empty... There wasn't any John Watson there.

Molly frowned slightly. "Could you please stay here a bit? I'm gonna call John." Molly insisted, Sherlock nodded, he sat on the chair next to Rosie while he was seeing Molly dialing John outside of the room over and over. Sherlock took Rosie's hand softly as he leaned a bit and kissed it. It smelt John. He must have held her hand. Sherlock sniffed more, he could feel John's scent on the mattress. He leaned back as he saw something was flashing.

Sherlock crawled and grabbed it from under the bed. It was a cellphone. John's phone. It was still buzzing. "Molly." Sherlock stated, she got in. "What are you do- that's John's phone." Molly was stunned. Sherlock's eyes were fixed on the screen. "Maybe he just dropped it. I'm gonna Page him. He must be in rest room or his own room." Molly was naively convincing herself. Sherlock couldn't believe what was he looking at. 

Sherlock was white as chalk. His mouth hung with lips slightly parted and his eyes were as wide as they could stretch, still as a statue, ridged as a board, face stuck in an incredulous expression, unblinking stare at the phone, shaking head in disbelief, his brain desperately scrambling to make sense of it. It couldn't be real. 

"Sherlock? Are you okay?" Molly asked, she was fearfully looking down at sherlock which was kneeling on the ground and glaring at the screen. "You're scaring me. Sherlock please tell me what is it on that bloody phone!" Molly raised her voice, causing Sherlock to flinch. He stood up slowly, looking at Molly a bit tremulous. 

Molly's patience got to end as she grabbed the phone from Sherlock's hand. "miss me? Its just a simple message." Molly scold as she was reading it. "Molly, what's Rosie's family name?" Sherlock held her shoulder as he asked. "Look, i can't tell you. I promised John and if I tell you it endangers his life." Molly said. "Molly if you don't tell me, It got worse." Sherlock said sternly. His eyes were scared and angry, his gripping on Molly's shoulder were firmer.

"Sherlock I can't-" Molly got stopped by Sherlock's yelling. "JOHN IS ALREADY IN DANGER." Molly covered her mouth. "She- sherlock What do y- you mean?" Molly asked. Sherlock gasped air and closed his eyes. "John is not in the hospital, Molly. He's kidnapped... please tell me what is her family name. I want to be sure." Sherlock brought his voice down.

"She's Rosamund Mary Moriarty, Jim Moriarty's only child." Molly said. Sherlock sighed while his eyes were closed and shaking his head slightly. "He's back." Sherlock murmured. "Do you know him?" Molly asked. Sherlock looked at her. "Molly, im gonna call my brother to bring some guards here for Rosie. I want you to be with her. Would you do that for me?" Sherlock said. 

"Yes of course. Just please tell me if you found him." Molly said with tears coming through her face. Sherlock nodded. "I promise." He said as he grabbed John's phone and headed out. "Sherlock I'm looking for you. Where have you been?" Ms Hudson said, she was looking stunned at the sight of Sherlock's non smugly face.

"Ms Hudson, John is kidnapped. I should find him." Sherlock said abruptly. "But who did that, Sherlock?" Ms Hudson asked bewildered. "He is back." Sherlock said before rushing to get out of hospital while Ms Hudson was shocked of the news. Ms Hudson was the only one except Mycroft who knew about Jim Moriarty. She helped Sherlock to get back to the normal life after what Sherlock had been through.

Sherlock took a cab to John's home. He knew he could find some hints there. Now it made sense why John was struggling to get Rosie's custody. All these time Moriarty knew what Sherlock was doing, who he was in touch with. Sherlock perfectly knew that Jim will omit any rivals to keep Sherlock single. If he hurt John, Sherlock never could live normal again. He kept telling the cabbie to drive faster until he left the poor cabbie alone when he saw his phone ringing. 

"Mycroft." He said. "Don't do a silly thing brother mine. I'll take care of him." Mycroft stated calmly. "How could you take care of him? All these years you kept saying that, Mycroft." Sherlock snapped. "May I know what made you this much stressed all of a sudden?" Mycroft asked with satire.

"Don't ask something that you know it's answer already." Sherlock muttered. "Oh, someone has stolen my little brother's heart. Lucky doctor." Sherlock didn't even wonder how Mycroft was aware of every details. "Should i be impressed?" Sherlock's cab stopped as he payed and got out. "Stop being stubborn and inform me as soon as you figured something out." He said before handing up. Sherlock skimmed John's secured door for a while before Decrypting it. 

The royal palace of Doctor Watson was expecting Sherlock to realize many of his secrets there. Many facts that will make the consulting detective to know his doctor truly.


	9. Chapter nine

Sherlock's POV

Sherlock closed the door behind him as he started walking slowly to John's home. His memories just snapped back to when he got invited to John's house. The way John was striving to show himself presentable. His constant smile and none stop brushing his hand through his sandy hair to be sure if they're standing alright. John's scent were still everywhere in the house. Everything was beyond tidy. 

Sherlock sauntered to the living room, where he was laying nakedly on John's sofa, a tinge smile danced on his lips from how bashfully John was checking up Sherlock while painting him. Sherlock spotted a book on the tv table as he leaned and picked it up. 'The man without rules' it was apparently finished, judging by the sign of the bookmark. Sherlock turned the page to read its prologue.

'Sebastian Boa defies all the rules. There isn't a woman who doesn't want the notoriety of being in his bed. When he crosses paths with Mariss Red at one of his clubs, his interest is quickly piqued, and he sets out to make a play for the confident beauty. But Mariss is married, and she has no desire to lose what she loves for a one night stand with the indulgent playboy.

For a man who lives on the edge, the Rules of the chase become clear at the start. If he wants to win Mariss, he will have to play on her turf. Boundaries and all. The harder Sebastian tries, the more Mariss refuses, and the harder it gets to keep his control. The Man Without Rules finds himself changing to be worthy of the one woman who has ever told him no.'

To John, Sherlock was kinda a Sebastian. He must kept thinking optimistically to be able to change the Sebastian of his life but with the difference that Sherlock had trust issues. Indeed Sherlock was changed. He trusted John with his life now. He wished he could have time stone to go back to the past and let John owning his heart. 

He put the book on the table. His eyes spotted John and Rosie in a framed picture above the fire place, where exactly he had seen it the first time. John was hugging Rosie. There was something in his face, a pain behind it. Sherlock watched. He watched John's eyes. Then he knew. The anger was nothing but a shield for pain, like a cornered soldier randomly throwing out grenades, scared for his life, lonely, desperate, undoubtedly it was what John has experienced in Afghanistan.

Sherlock didn't have time, otherwise he could stare at his picture for hours, deducing more clandestine out of his doctor's face.

Sherlock decided to stroll the stairs, heading to John's master bedroom. His night gown was resting on the edge of the bed. Sherlock remembered the night he had worn it while he was trying to entertain Sherlock with movie in bed. Sherlock stepped in, he grabbed it while he sat on the bed. I'll find you my dear Watson. He inhaled the attire deeply by holding it to his nose. His eyes started brimming up with tears. Sherlock now could appreciate how badly he had missed John's scent by smelling the gown. His moist fluttering eyes spotted bunch of papers on John's desk while his PC was on its screen saver. 

He stood and walked there before sitting on chair, rummaging the papers. Suddenly every part of sherlock's body went on pause. John had sketched him on all the papers. Each one was representing one of his angle. John didn't sketch nudity. Instead, he was focused on Sherlock's emotions. his eyes lit up in passion while an affectionate smile plastered on his face, his pale skin as purity clouded on it. His dark curls gleaming. All of John's sketches were showing one of Sherlock's sentiments. Happiness, sadness, fear and eager. They were all drown with details. It was like whenever the doctor had free time, he had attempted sketching Sherlock. 

The doctor was deeply in love with Sherlock. Otherwise what was the benefit to paint a same man over and over again. Sherlock put the papers back as he saw a crumpled piece of paper in the first drawer of John's desk. He unfolded it. 

"Passing the red line kills you soon doctor"

Sherlock knew it was Moriarty's hand writing and what he meant by it. It wasn't only a simple warn but also an address which Sherlock knew where exactly it was. Moriarty knew that Sherlock will find this message. Red line was where Sherlock first time kissed him. It was occurred in a warehouse in south London, when the trill of witnessing his cleverness, compassion and caring just deceived Sherlock's heart and made him pulling Jim into a long and passionately kiss without being aware of the reality behind his mask.

He must had taken John there as his hostage, waiting for Sherlock to show up after all these years. Indeed Moriarty used from both Rosie and John as his baits to reach Sherlock. 

Sherlock fisted his hand, anger rushed into his blood. He couldn't crash his heart once again. It was Sherlock's turn to return Moriarty's vicious favor. 

Sherlock left the room, brisk down the stairs to leave the house but he found the front lid of John's piano remaining on while a recorder was settled on its front frame. Temptation of knowing what had recorded in there halted Sherlock from leaving. He walked there as he sat behind it, his fingers were long and slender, easily sweeping over the keys of the piano, as if casual wind fluttering across the surface of sand and shifting it into motion so easily. He was only brushing the heads of those fingers on the kies without pressing them while his eyes were closed, remembering when John was playing for him. 

Sherlock hit the recorder button to hear what was recorded in it. His lips crooked up into a smile when he heard John's playing. Seconds later John's alluring voice was singing along with the melody. Sherlock could easily found the hint of ennui and anguish in his charming voice. It was definitely when Sherlock had told him not to call him unless you'd have a logical reason to be in touch. Because Sherlock could vividly feel the sadness in John's tune.  
(Scared to be lonely by Martin Garrix feat Dua Lipa)

'Now we're picking fights and slamming doors  
Magnifying all our flaws  
And I wonder why, wonder what for  
Why we keep coming back for more  
Is it just our bodies? Are we both losing our minds?  
Is the only reason you're holding me tonight  
'Cause we're scared to be lonely?  
Do we need somebody just to feel like we're alright?  
Is the only reason you're holding me tonight  
'Cause we're scared to be lonely'

John's voice rumbled like a storm deep inside of Sherlock as he hummed a tune. It was low and soft but powerful enough to send chills through Sherlock's body, thunderous voice crashing like a wave through the room until the whole living room was filled with only John's voice. Sherlock almost sank into John's playing along with his singing by staring at the black and white kies until the buzzing of his phone brought him to the reality.

"Mycroft." Sherlock's pipped.  
"I do believe you have found where is he by now, brother mine." Mycroft insisted behind the line. Sherlock knew that Mycroft had realized it was Jim Moriarty otherwise he wouldn't have called for back up. "I'm not gonna jeopardize John's life to protect my own ass, Mycroft." Sherlock demanded gently but stern enough. "Lucky doctor Watson. The man that hates everyone is now in love with him." Mycroft snapped.  
"I've more important things to do rather than listening to your nonsense, dear brother." Sherlock replied dryly before hanging up. 

He saw Molly sent a new message to him. 

"Rosie is conscious now. Doctors told me that she will get her health back. Plz inform me when u found John."

Sherlock closed his eyes as smile danced on his lips. He wished John was there to see Rosie waking up. Sherlock loved the little girl. He wished he could be there in her room with John while they could take Rosie back home. Home? Where's home? Its where the hope is. Sherlock's hope was John Watson and his little smart daughter. 

He got out of John's house, hailing a cab to the address he knew Moriarty was there with John. Sherlock tried to regain his composure. He needed to think, to come up with a nice plan. Moriarty was a man who could consider all aspects not to lose to his ex lover, Sherlock Holmes. He opened his eyes, getting out of his mind palace when the cabbie told him that he's arrived at the destination. Final destination. Sherlock jumped out of the taxi after paying the driver. 

Sherlock spotted the wreckage house. He decided to enter from the axillary door instead of the main door. He still could remember everywhere of this demolished building. The place had roof for some parts while the other parts were ruined by the crashed walls. Dirt and darkness were all over it. It was almost 7 in the evening but there were no sound of horns, cars or crowds in that part of the city. Sherlock couldn't hear or seeing anything except multiple walls and halls like a maze until he got into a giant hall without any roof but long walls surrounding it.

Sherlock loosened his scarf before he inhale deeply. He prepared himself for an uphill battle. Moriarty was the man of surprise and Sherlock knew the fact that he already has seen him. Something nimbly crosses in front of him, made Sherlock flinch and jump a bit in horror. Once he spotted the big mouse escaping at the other side of the warehouse, he relieved an exhale. 

He was sure John is captivated somewhere here according to the familiar scent that Sherlock could precisely sniff it. He loved John's mesmerizing scent, his shampoo and the sweet scent of his body. Sherlock never could forgive himself if something happened to his doctor. After all doubting and distrusting the ex army captain, now it was the time to prove he embedded John deep in his heart and will do anything to bring him in safety.

"I presume you wanted to see me." Sherlock raised his voice finally as it echoed to the whole place. He tried to sound determined and dominant while his heart was pounding fast as if he faces to John's dead body. Rolling thunder that bellowed across the dark skies made the night stormy. Small droplets of rain started falling down, splashing down the broken glass of remained windows and sliding down on brick frame. Sherlock held his breath when he heard someone calling him.

"Sh.. Sher.. Sherlock." A weak voice called Sherlock's name out from the behind as Sherlock turned back, looking at the owner of the voice. His pupils got wide, he froze. Horror promulgated all over his body. Terror overtook his face. Sherlock's mouth fell open. It was him. "Jo.. John." Sherlock's lower lip trembled, his voice gruffly as he called John's name. What has he done to my John?

Wounds were everywhere of John's neck, collarbone and his temple more like cuts. The blood that came out of them was bright, glistening and raging like the dawn over as if his skin were a hill. His arms were tied up with rope around his wrists hanging to the roof. Blood and dark circles were around his wrists while his sandy hair was wet and dirts made it grayer. His left cheekbone had a bruise, Crimson leaked from both his nostrils with a gash on his dried lips, showing he was dehydrated. His thighs were trembling showing he had been bashed there with riding crops multiple times. His light blue shirt was dusty and blood had split on its collars. He was out of his shoes, standing on his bare feet.

Sherlock's blood hummed in his veins as anger spread to his body. How could someone do such a cruel thing to his doctor? "John, are you alright?" Sherlock asked, knowing the question is absurd but he needed to ask. He stared at the injured doctor who blinked as yes, that tiny little smile on his lips just melted what had remained in Sherlock's heart.

"John, talk to me!" Sherlock started walking to him. "Don't come near me, Sherlock." John's hoarse exhausted voice trailed weakly to the air. Sherlock squeezed his eyes with a faint frown, checking if something was wrong around them. "It.. it might be dan.. dangerous." He finished his speech, his eyes worried as they were gazing on Sherlock's ones.

"Leave here immediately before he saw you, Sherlock." John acclaimed, loud whispering way. Sherlock shook his head repeatedly. "I have left you enough to find you like this." Sherlock scanned John's body and face while he could feel the pressure in heart. On the other hand John had his army composure, his style was still and sturdy even though he had been tortured for hours from Sherlock's deductions.

"It's none of your concerns, Sherlock. Get out of here now." John shouted in whispering, rage covered his face. Sherlock was amazed how deeply John cared for him even in this situation. 

"We both know it's impossible." Sherlock started walking to him slowly after examining their vicinity to be sure that nothing threatens them. John's eyes got wide. He pursed his lower lips. "Sherlock.. please." John murmured softly, his eyes were candles among the dark warehouse, their light a spark of passion... desire. 

Their feelings towards each other was written in their DNA. As a small but teasing smile crept upon Sherlock face, goosebumps lined John's skin, not the kind than one gets in the cold, but the kind one gets when nothing else matters except right here, right now. 

"Please what?" Sherlock whispered, he remembered his wet dream couple  
days ago. The way they were touching each other. He saved every scene of it in his mind palace.   
John's warm breaths was seeping into Sherlock's being and it was comforting him. "You're not safe." John whispered, his dilated pupils focused on Sherlock's lips. 

"Neither you are." They were staring at each other, their glances battled the other, their breaths mingled. "How.. how did you find me?" John's lips turned up into a tinge smile while his eyes were ping ponging between Sherlock's lips and eyes. It genuinely lit Sherlock's brain on fire. The swirls of emotion he saw there made Sherlock faintly gasp. 

"You know my methods." Sherlock replied deep and low. John licked his lips before humming. Don't lick those for God's sake, Jawn. Sherlock brought his hands slowly up, he cupped John's face, running his thumb on the gash on his lips. "Fucking bastard.." how cruel could anyone be to do such a thing like that. "Was he the only one who hit you?.. no wait. There were two others too. Explain their bloody faces, John." Sherlock was speaking behind his teeth.

"It's okay, Sherlock.. look at me." John insisted. Sherlock's eyes shifted to John's. "I thought I'd never see you again." John paused, Sherlock's face softened. "You don't have any idea how badly I want my hands free." John looked at Sherlock's whole face passionately. "It's not a far fetched thing." Sherlock muttered before raising his hands to start ripping the rope but got stopped by John fiddling and shaking his head. 

"No, Sherlock... if you open the rope, a signal will be sent to his phone. There are plenty of sensors here." John whispered worriedly. Sherlock's hope wiped out as his body felt bathed with cold water. "Why didn't you tell me it's Jim Moriarty? You knew he is my ex." Sherlock's breathings were hard, he was angry.

"It's been only two days that I've realized Jim was your boyfriend, Sherlock. I couldn't tell anyone about him. Moriarty threatened me to kill Rosie if I say a word to anyone about him. I couldn't risk my daughter's life nor you." John answered. 

Sherlock lingered on his gazing until he closed his eyes, started to think for a way to get rid of there immediately before Jim coming back. John leaned and that moment was when Sherlock's heart skipped beats. "Leave here, brainy." John whispered into his ear. Sherlock opened his eyes, he looked at him devouringly, while his hands were still on John's face. He ran them lower until they held John's waist as his fingers dipped in a bit.

"Only with my doctor." Sherlock acclaimed, he pulled John's body closer to him, Sherlock was against his warm chest, chiseled to perfection. John's lips were parted, still wet from licking. Damn.  
Sherlock was fighting the urge to wipe his thick saliva on those soft lips. His mind was yelling don't do that! Do not kiss those lips! But the sound of his heart was loud enough that he couldn't concentrate.

John's hands were into a fist, representing his hot passion towards the taller man.

"You like what you see?" John smirked, they were few centimeters away from each other. Sherlock pursed his lips not to let out his laugh before coming closer to omit the space between them, he never was this much sure about his feeling at the moment. He was ready to surrender himself to John, to meet those lips with his own. He couldn't linger it anymore. He wanted to feel John Watson. Patience was over. Their lips were about to brush each other. 

"Did you miss me?" said a loud voice with frenzied euphoria in his tune. Sherlock closed his eyes, deprived of John's lips, the doctor looked disappointed when their moment just caught off. Sherlock spotted Moriarty walking toward him and John while he had worn a jet black suit along with a black tie and white shirt. He had even worn the cologne as he sniffed which Sherlock had gifted him years ago. He pointed Sherlock to step back as Sherlock stepped back without altering his sight from Moriarty.

Sherlock fisted his hands, endeavoring to disguise his fear by presenting himself as senseless as he could be. "Let John go. This is something between me and you." He said with a steady tune, his brows drew together slightly which brought Jim into a loud simpering. He was laughing annoyingly. "Since when you get this much boring, Sherly?" He said, a wide grin formed his lips. Sherlock felt his heart beat pacing second by second. The man he used to love reprogrammed Sherlock's mind as a monster. 

"We can talk logically, Jim." Sherlock insisted, traveling his gaze for a second to John, who was leering back with a meaningful attitude. "Oh, Sherlock there isn't any point coming to this clay." He pouted his mouth with a fake puppy eyes. Sherlock narrowed his eyes before staring back at Moriarty.

"Get off your high horse or I make you beg for mercy." Sherlock's monotone deep voice acclaimed. Jim started chuckling as he clapped his hands. "Don't bite off more than you can chew Sherley." 

"You know perfectly what I'm capable of." Sherlock raised a single eyebrow. "I do believe your bark is worse than your bite, Mr Holmes." He said, the corner of his mouth quirked up while John was chasing the both men with his eyes.

"Explain me the reason of bringing us here then." Sherlock requested, his voice still dominant, John's gun which he took it from his desk was hidden under his pile of clothes. It was calling out for Sherlock to put a bullet right in Jims forehead. He could buy more time, lingering as if he grasp a chance to win the final problem between himself and his ex lover. "You know what have you done." Jim responded. Sherlock's brows snapped together. "Example." He pipped.

"Everything. You chose me, Sherlock. You chose to love me." Jim said, hands in his pocket as he started to walk around John which was looking at Jim with loathing. 

"Count it as my human error and for your information I've deleted you from my heart years ago." Sherlock said, chasing him with his eyes. "But not from your mind. Do you know why?" Jim asked as he stood beside John and stared at his profile voraciously. John closed his eyes, he was thirsty to put Jim down. 

"Enlighten me, professor." Sherlock arched back an eyebrow. A sly smirk danced on Jim's lips as he traced his index finger on John's jawline, causing him to flinch in disgust. 

"If your mind is a hard drive, I'm the virus in it, Sherlock. I ruin every new thing you want to store." He held John's chin up to his side, obliging the doctor gazing to his brownish eyes as he opened his eyes. "Such as this beautiful soldier." Jim said as he ran the back of his hand on John's cheek. "Johnny boy, you can talk." Jim said with a slight chuckle.

"You make me vomit." John murmured, annoyed from the touchings. Jim chuckled as he grasped fistful of John's strands, caused him to moan in agony while his tired but still attractive face was sending turbulence to Sherlock's heart. Sherlock fisted his shaking hands. He couldn't endure watching John like that.

"Sherlock, try to memorize this stupid little man's face in the best room of your mind palace before getting late." 

Horror shone in Sherlock's eyes when he saw Jim pulling John's hair firmer. His eyes met Sherlock's, blazing with hapless while bravery of a soldier was utterly conspicuous.

"Just tell me what do you want." Sherlock blurted out, still darting his gaze on John. "What's with the rush?" Jim glanced at Sherlock. "Oh lemme answer it for you. It's killing you seeing him tortured... it's beyond caring, Sherlock, am I wrong?"

"Since when you become this much moron, thinking I'd care for someone else?" Sherlock replied, his dead eyes shifted to John. He snapped his mouth shot, his eyes bored into Sherlock. "Interesting! So you wouldn't give a shit if I put a bullet right into his heart?" Jim said as he raised a brow.

"I don't like seeing harm to anyone, Jim. He is nothing to me except an ordinary man. Now tell me what do you want from me." Sherlock said, hating his words. He couldn't read John's feeling through this deep gazing. "I want you back with me." Jim said simply. A vein popped out in John's neck. Oh my dear captain..

"You are dead to me, Jim. How can I be with such a devil like you?" Sherlock narrowed his eyes within a deep scowl. How could he be with him whilst knowing the bunch of creepy crimes that he has committed. Besides, there wasn't any place for Jim in his heart rather than loathing. How could he be with him while his heart was buried into the sandy man who was chained beside him.

"I KILLED MY FUCKING WIFE FOR YOU!" Jim yelled harshly, sending shiver to Sherlock's body as he closed his eyes, inhaling some air. John gapingly was staring at Jim.   
"You killed your innocent wife, left your sick kid, betrayed me and hurt this man because of your abnormal desires. You're the victim of your temptations, Jim." Sherlock said. 

"And do you know what happens if you don't satisfy my temptations, Sherlock?" Jim asked more like a threatening. Sherlock squeezed his eyes. Jim slipped his hand into his pants pocket, bringing out a knife just like a ruffian. Sherlock knew him, having the gut to thuggery. He was ready to point the gun at him. 

"His face entices me, Sherlock. I don't know whether to knife it or lick it." He put the blade on John's cheek, causing John shuddering.

"just stop this! Stop hurting him, Jim." Sherlock raised his hand, pointing his index finger, it was trembling.  
"Admit it then. Admit that every time he looks at you, your eyes dilate, your heart rate quickens, your lips part to take a breath. The allure of John fucking Watson is irresistible for you. ADMITT IT SHERLOCK!" Jim yelled harshly. Sherlock's chest was coming up and down. 

"Just finish me and let Sherlock and Rosie go." John finally blurted out, his voice was gruff, tired and pissed. Sherlock shook his head repeatedly. John looked at sherlock. "His jealousy has started since I came to you and Rosie's life. If I'm gone, everything will be back to normal, Sherlock." John softly said, hatred was repleting his eyes. Jim kept chewing his gum nervously with a fake sneer on his lips. 

"No way! How dare you telling me to leave you like this?" Sherlock felt his ears getting hot. He was glaring at the doctor who was gaping. Sherlock wrapped his fingers around his throat as he felt the the painful hatred there. Sherlock's coldness had made John believing he was the most worthless person to him while Sherlock was suffering by witnessing how Jim was hurting the only person he opened his heart for.

"Look what you made me to do." Sherlock ran his hand from his throat off, John shifted his eyes as he saw the tremor on his finger. "Sherlock." John murmured softly, Sherlock had missed hearing his name from his favorite velvety voice. "What is happening to you?" John tilted his head, his aquamarine blue eyes studied Sherlock. "I'm no one to you, Sherlock. This has to be ended. My time is over. I was just an ordinary stranger who entertained you for few weeks. Don't get affected and be the real Sherlock Holmes." John looked at sherlock piercingly like those eyes were trying to convey words which couldn't be spoken. 

Sherlock smiled sadly. His heart plummeted at the sight of his chained up doctor. The way he was standing while those injured wrists were sturdily tied up with the rope. Sherlock was desperately in need of pulling him in a tight hug, assuring John that he doesn't let anything happen to him. I'm useless.

"The heart is a strange beast and sadly not ruled by logic, John. I wish I could delete the whole past few weeks.. but my mind is betraying me with my heart." A single tear fell down his face while Sherlock was obliging himself to resist, his jaw, throat were aching from hatred. He was sad, angry and scared. He couldn't distinguish these sentiments at the moments.

John's eyes slipped shut as tears ran through his cheekbones, shrouded his fresh wounds. "Emotions are what you have not what you are, Sherlock. Forget what's happened before it hooks and kills you hard." John opened his eyes, there was such a luster in his eyes that The taller man had to look away, and when Sherlock looked back at him, John's gaze hadn't moved and was still focused on Sherlock's face, his eyes were like fingers. They could touch, inviting and impudent, enticing and insolent.

Sherlock almost drowned, replying John's intensive gaze with his own galaxy eyes dazzling at the chained man in front of him. 

"Quite extraordinary gentle men. I can imagine how you two could do Magics in bed." Jim uttered, his tune loud, causing both Sherlock and John tearing their gaze to look at the owner of the voice. "Pity it wouldn't last long." Jim brushed the blade from John's chin to John's bare chest as he stopped there. "Rosie will cry, Molly will cry and even Sherley will cry for your death, Johnny boy." John clenched his teeth to apparently endure the blade of the knife, scratching him.

"I doubt that." Sherlock acclaimed as he all of a sudden pointed John's gun to Jim. Jim raised his eyebrows, wide eyes looking at Sherlock acrimoniously.

"You think I care to live?" Jim pushed the knife a bit further, made John hissing in pain. Sherlock shoot a bullet to the air. The only person who flinched was the injured doctor. The rain was turning into drizzling, making the three of them soaked. Sherlock got mad witnessing John's body was repleted with wounds and scars. "Common, Sherlock. Show me your demon." Jim demanded with s lopsided grin. "You're asking for it." It was when Sherlock pulled Jim as they started a fight. "NO, SHERLOCK!" John yelled harshly, pulling his rope while it was useless.

Sherlock snapped and swung at Jim, a wild roundhouse punch that glanced harmlessly off the other man's shoulder. "Fucking sucker punch, huh?" said Jim, and drove his fist deep into Sherlock's gut, managing only to mash his knuckles. Sherlock grasped Jim's collar as both slummed down on the dusty wet ground, hitting each other. John's gun was inches away them. Each one was endeavoring to reach for it. John was struggling to rip the rope around his wrists, he was rotting it by rubbing them to each other.

Sherlock's longer fingers succeeded to grab the gun while Jim sat on his chest, wrapping his hands around Sherlock's neck and squeezed it. Sherlock was gagging while his need of oxygen was halting him to use the gun in his hand. John freed his hands, looking around, spotting a spade in the corner. John was laming to grab it. Jim had tortured him for hours, turning him into a semi alive man.

Sherlock was mouthing John's name while Jim's grip was suffocating him, turning his face bruised until the bullet spat out of the pistol finally. 

Everything went in silence. 

Jim's grip was loosened as Sherlock threw him away. He saw Jim's grin got wider. He didn't get shot nor Jim. He was sure the gunshot reached to his ear. He was sure it sounded hitting a body. Suddenly Sherlock's eyes rummaged the other angle, finding John kneeling on the ground while bullet hit him in the chest, propelling John backward on the ground. 

"JAAAAAWWWN! NOOOO!" Sherlock yelled loudly as he crawled, stood and ran towards John with stumbling while Jim was dusting his suit off with composure. Sherlock held John's neck as he rested his head on his embrace. "John! Please look at me!" Blood soaked into John's tore sleeve, radiating outward. Sherlock abruptly stripped the fabric away to see the dark hole in his never-seen-the-sun white skin of his chest. Bloodshed was spreading all over John's abs. 

Sherlock was fighting back his tears but tears shimmered in his eyes, making his vision blurry. "John, can you hear me?" There wasn't any arrogance, domination of deep tune was in his voice but a trembled scared voice. "She... Sherl.." John's weak voice came out as he half opened his pair of ocean blue eyes. Sherlock took off his scarf and pressed it on John's hideous bleeding spot. 

"Bear with me, John." Sherlock slipped his hand in his trench coat pocket as he started dialing for ambulance with a single hand.   
"What do you think you are doing, William?" Moriarty's voice just stopped Sherlock, he turned his head back, finding Jim pointing a gun.  
"My Finger is so itchy to touch the trigger." 

Tears were running down Sherlock's cheeks, he was holding John to himself. "I swear to god if he dies.." Sherlock's words were coming behind of his teeth, gazing at him with loathing. he gritted his teeth while his eyes were blazed with nothing but tears.

"You never cared for me like that. What has he done to you? How did he voodoo you? You piece of metal turned into this... you weren't this sentimental even with me." Jim clenched his teeth, pointing the gun while anger was dominating him.

"You ruined my emotions, Jim. You were the one who caused me turning off my caring senses." Sherlock's voice was trembling.

"Hah! Anyway John Watson won't make it, Sherlock but I can help you joining him in hell if you're insisting." Jim said, Sherlock held John's head to his chest, he closed his eyes, he was ready to die. The person who made him stone hearted was also stoping his heart to beat. John was mumbling something, seemingly like begging not to shoot Sherlock. 

The gunshot cracked into the air as loud as thunder. Sherlock felt physically no pain as he fluttered his eyes open, seeing Jim laying on the ground with a bullet right in his skull. 

"The ambulance is on its way." said a familiar voice. "Mycroft." Sherlock mumbled his brother's name. He strode to where Sherlock was holding the doctor in his embrace while kneeling on the dusty ground. He stood quietly, seemingly aware that the doctor won't make it. 

Sherlock shifted his gaze back to John. "John, Stay with me please." Sherlock was hardly pressing his hand on John's wound, blood was spreading on his fingers. He was feeling an excruciating pain in his throat as hatred was about to burst. John gazed up into Sherlock's eyes with half open eyes. His eyes were gleaming, making eye at the curly man. Sherlock could now perfectly know how deep John was loving him.

"Sher.. Sherlock l can't.. ma.. make.. it" John stuttered, gripping pile of Sherlock's shirt, it was when Sherlock held his hand, tears were running none stop on his cheekbones. 

"Don't you dare leave me, John. You promised me always being there for me." Sherlock said among his sobbing. Mycroft was gapingly watching Sherlock, he obviously hadn't seen his brother this much emotional.

"Lis..listen to me Shh.. Sherlock. Will you do tha.. that for me?" John said among sloppy and ragged inhaling. Sherlock shook his head. "Don't live notes for me, John. Ambulance is on its way. Bare with me please." Sherlock's imploring got stopped by John's bloody hand running on Sherlock's wet cheek, he smiled weakly, a tear left from the corner of his eyes. His hand was freezing, his face was growing paler.

"I.. I wa.. want y-y.. you to br..brrring.. my t..two wishhhhes come trrr.. true. Will y..yyou do that for mmm.. me?" John was gasping air, lips parted as his sandy strands of hair were resting back. Sherlock squeezed his eyes closed, knowing what John was attempting to say. 

"John.." Sherlock's deep voice was ragged. "Rosie is conscious. Stay alive for her sake." John deepened his smile as his innocent eyes flashed by the news. "I want y..you taking ca.. care of Rosie, Sher.. Sherlock Pro.. prommmise me?" John squeezed Sherlock's hand briefly. Sherlock pressed John's hand to his own chest, his heart was aching terribly. This man just illuminated his life few weeks ago with hope and now he was dying. 

"I promise to take care of her with you. Don't leave me my doctor." A sad smile formed on Sherlock's Cupid bow lips as John deepened his smile. "My sec.. second wish is on the con.. contra...ry with it." John's bright teeth were shown, his dazzlings were Found fascinatingly beautiful by Sherlock. "Tell me, John." Sherlock weakly murmured, brushing his fingers through John's back hair.

"Ffff...fa..fall in love with a ri.. right person, Shhh.. sherl..lock" John's grip on Sherlock's hand loosened as he fluttered his eyes close. Sherlock's eyes got widened. I already have fallen.

"JAWWWWWWN!!! OPEN YOUR EYES!" Sherlock shook John's motionless body, he took John's pulse, finding a weak disorganized rhythm. "Ambulance is here." Mycroft spotted it from the broken window. 

Sherlock couldn't hear the ambulance coming. He could only make out its blurred shape through his blood shot, puffy, crying eyes. Sherlock stared as he watched the life was draining out of his loved ones eyes. John went pale and limp. As a pair of strong hands pulled him back into the blinding light of the ambulance he still didn't move. It was Mycroft who held Sherlock, helping him get to the ambulance. He was feeling everything too vaguely. John's body was channelled onto a stretcher and into the ambulance with Sherlock and Mycroft. 

I have fallen with the rightest person, John. Open your eyes to deduce it.

The van stank slightly like sulphur and chemicals. It numbed Sherlock's nose and almost choked him, as he sat on the crisp white sheets that crinckled beneath him. The two ER doctors were giving John CPR. Sherlock was brushing his hands roughly into his curls. Murmuring hurry up. Johns didn't have any heart rate, he was nonstop defibrillated by the CPR pedals.

Emotions swirled with the ice water circling the cold drain as streaks of fire burned his cheeks. It was more than crying, it was the kind of desolate sobbing that comes from a person drained of all hope. Fire of shame and anger burned just under his skin and a deep emptiness filled his heart as the sentiments brewed over and boiled past the seams he could no longer hold together. He wanted his John back. The man that thousands times attempted to earn Sherlock's emotions by devoting all he had. John was right. Nothing breaks like a heart. Sherlock was heart broken again. 

"Please open your eyes, John! Give me one more chance! Please.." . Sherlock could hear his own sounds, like a distressed child, raw from the inside. A hand rested on his shoulder as he realized Mycroft was eyeing him with tears shining in his eyes. His brother never had seen him this much sad. "I need him, Myc." Sherlock stuttered, he sobbed into his chest unceasingly, hands clutching at Mycroft's coat. He held him in silence, rocking him slowly as Sherlock's tears soaked his chest.

"Oh my god! He's back! Connect the ventilator, his oxygen is low." The female doctor almost shouted as John's rhythm went a bit normal. Sherlock looked up as his cold tears were dried on his tired face, he stared at the portable monitor which was demonstrating John's cardiogram. 

"He's alive.. HE IS ALIVE MYCROFT!" Sherlock raised his voice, looking at his brother with a mingle of tears and happiness.

Mycroft took off his glove as he patted Sherlock's arm. "Yes dear brother. He's alive." Mycroft smiles deeply, honestly Sherlock had missed his brother even if they never have gotten along with each other. It was appeasing to have a shoulder to cry on after all. If it wasn't for Mycroft, he was dead.

Sherlock brought his hand, brushing his fingers on John's semi cold hand, he interlocked his fingers with John's ones. He was stroking John's soft hand's with his other hand. How innocently he was sleeping. Sherlock remembered when he was licking his lips, dazzling into Sherlock's mouth and eyes, waiting for Sherlock to agree for their lips brushing against each other. It was too near. It was near for Sherlock to admit his feelings for John. 

After John was imported to the operation room of his own hospital, Sherlock slumped himself on waiting room behind the surgery room. Mycroft gently sat beside him while he rested both his hands on his umbrella, tilting his head to Sherlock's sight. 

"Doctor Watson is a strong man, Sherlock. He will make it." Sherlock slightly nodded while his head was between his hands, gazing at the stoned floor. "It's all my faults, Mycroft. My faults." Sherlock muttered. "How on earth John got to know Rosie. How Rosie got to be Jim's daughter and how I started entering John into my life." Sherlock laid his back to the chair with steepled hands under his chin. "It's harder than enigma, Mycroft."

"Coincidence, brother mine." Mycroft delivered a decent smile.   
"Once he opened my heart, I tried hard to keep it closed but every single time I failed." Sherlock glanced at Mycroft and back to the front.

"I'm not an expert when it comes to sentiments, Sherlock. But I do believe your heart chose the right way to crave for John Watson." Sherlock rubbed his eyes, holding back his tears. "I'm afraid it would be so late." Sherlock almost choked on his words as sobbing joint him. Mycroft pulled him in a hug. Sherlock buried his head into his brothers chest, sobbing as unpleasant human-ish noises came out of him. "Shhhh... baby brother. He will recover... he will..." Mycroft gently was whispering. 

"I... i broke his heart many times, Mycroft. He did everything to make me happy, to prove his love to me. But all I did was rejecting him, while I was craving to reciprocate his emotions with mine." Sherlock rested his head on Mycroft's shoulder, his only brother was stroking his hair. 

"There will be plenty of times which you can compensate what you didn't do dear brother." Mycroft said before spotting a nurse rushing out of surgery room.

"Mr Holmes." Sherlock looked up as he abruptly stood. "How's he?" He rapidly asked. The nurse arched an eyebrow with a tinge smirk on her lips. Sherlock assumed her interests towards him. "The operation ended very well. We took out the bullet and he will be conscious in half an hour. I'll let you meet him in few minutes." She said, crossing from Sherlock as he relieved a deep sigh, turning back to look at his brother who was standing behind him. 

"The field is yours, brother mine. Use the opportunity rightly." He acclaimed before walking out to leave. "And chillax dear brother, my people eradicated Moriarty's rats." The corner of Sherlock's lips twisted up into a smile. He owed his life to his older brother. Sherlock could always count on him in his wretched moments.

"SHERLOCK!" A familiar voice called his name in euphoria, running to him with her heels clinching on the white stones floor.

"I've heard the news! Sherlock, are you okay? Is John okay? Jesus, look at your bloody shirt!" Molly covered her mouth, scanning Sherlock's shirt worriedly. Sherlock smiled weakly as he held Molly still from fidgeting. "It's not mine. And we are okay now." He acclaimed, his voice convincing and warm. He knew how deep Molly was caring about John in a friendly way. 

"I'll go check John before you visit him and Sherlock?" Molly dubiously asked. Sherlock tilted his head slightly, waiting for her speech.  
"Yes, Molly."

"Rosie keeps asking about John. She's upset, thinking if John had forgotten being with her during the surgery so I thought maybe, you know.." Sherlock cut off her speech before she finished.

"I'm going to see her now, Molly." He said. Molly nodded happily before going. "And Molly?" Sherlock called her, making Molly turning back.  
"Yes, Sherlock?" She asked. Sherlock twisted his lips upper, bringing an honest smile on his lips as it reached to his eyes.

"Thank you for everything." He said.  
"And thank you for everything as well." Was Molly's answer which brought Sherlock to snort slightly.  
"Tit for tat then, Hooper." He said before leaving her to Rosie's room. He couldn't believe both John and Rosie are safe and sound finally. 

Sherlock held his hand on the door knob, hesitation filled his body. What if Rosie didn't like meeting Sherlock? He took John from her and caused him nearly getting killed. Sherlock buttoned on his coat to hide the amount of blood on his shirt which belonged to John, inhaling deep before opening the door.

The first thing his eyes spotted was a sitting girl on hospital bed with her cap and pink gown staring at her IV cheerlessly. 

"May I come in mademoiselle Rosamund Mary?" Sherlock met her green hazel eyes, blazing with euphoria. "Mr Sherlock!" She gapingly watched Sherlock closing the door behind him as he walked toward her. "I know you're mad." He said softly, keeping his sweet smile because he couldn't hide the amount of caring he had for the little girl. She was nothing like his biological father.   
If Sherlock didn't know anything, he could admit she was more like John rather than Jim Moriarty. 

"I'm not mad at you nor daddy, Mr Sherlock." She said, taking Sherlock's hand which was holding the bed kid safeguard. He looked at his hand covering with a tiny hand. He felt drawn into it. It generated a feeling like he was appreciating how parenting really means. Sherlock held Rosie's hand, leaned to sit on the beside chair as he kissed it while his gaze was kindly fixed on her cute rounded eyes.

"But your dad broke his promise, being with you. You must be mad at him and probably hating me." Sherlock gently said, fondling Rosie's hand with his thumb. Rosie shook her head while a smile plastered on her softly little lips. 

"I won't be mad if daddy was with you, Mr Sherlock." Sherlock's irises froze as his pupils were wide, gaping of her saying. "But... but why?" He asked quietly, couldn't read her face. 

"It's because you can make my daddy happy and it makes me happy." She said, giggling slightly. Sherlock's smile deepened as his teeth where shown. "Let's say you make both your dad and me happy, little princess." Sherlock admitted. "You too, Mr Sherlock." She said sweetly.

"Rosie... Will you promise me something?" Sherlock asked.  
"Pinky promise!" Rosie brought her little finger to held Sherlock's one to promise. Sherlock bit his lips not to chuckle from the adorable kid. 

"Pinky promise then." Sherlock said before interlocking their little fingers together. Rosie nodded eagerly.

"Rosie, John didn't forget you. He was so worried about you all the time before, during and after our trip. He will meet you very soon today." Sherlock's speech cut off by Rosie.

"Is he okay, Mr Sherlock?" She asked with a hint of anxiety. "He is fine right now. Just a brief injury which will be healed very soon." Sherlock retorted gently, causing Rosie humming in half relief. "I can't wait seeing him, Mr Sherlock. Can you take me to him? I need to see my father." Rosie uttered, her innocent eyes were carrying worries.

Sherlock sighed, knowing Rosie was smart enough, realizing Sherlock was lying. "look, Rosie." Sherlock traveled his gaze to all over the room before looking back at the little girl.

"John is luckily survived a sever injury. He has lots of wounds but he will get healed very soon." Sherlock calmly said. Rosie sniffed as she held back her tears while they were winning over her as they slid down on her cheeks. 

"Please let me come with you, Mr Sherlock. I need to see him." She said with a trembling in her voice. Sherlock rapidly nodded. "I'm calling the nurse to separate you from your IV then we can go together, okay princess?" He kindly promised. Rosie nodded as she wiped her tears. 

After Sherlock called the station nurse and she took Rosie's IV off of her, Sherlock hugged her up into his embrace, started walking to the hallway to reach John's room. Molly has done the essential procedures for John by now.

Rosie kept her head buried in Sherlock's trench coat, Her little fingers curled into the fabric, not clasping it tightly, but just enough to reassure her that Sherlock won't let her go. Sherlock's typical agitated and hyperactive brain was exotically calm. He was enjoying the cute softness of Rosie's cheek on his neck, the dolly scent of the little kid and the way she was holding him. Sherlock could feel his neurons were sending chemical synapses, signaling that he was amazed by the parenting feeling. How beautiful was being a dad. Sherlock was deprived of these feelings all the time. His other hand ran at the back of Rosie as he caressed her gently, walking slowly while he was saving this feeling in his mind palace. Now everything made sense, it became logical to him that why John was caring too much for Rosie.

Sherlock glanced at John's room  
door for few seconds, detecting how badly he needed to see this man after the excruciating moments in that warehouse. He opened the door after knocking, facing with an sandy haired man covering with wounds and bandages while two IVs were connected to his wrists. John was laying back on bed, his head was resting on three pile of pillow, making him in a half sitting way on bed. His eyes were consciously opened, his hair were clean and combed like always. Probably Molly took care of it.

Rosie called his dad loud in Sherlock's embrace. "Daddy!! You are very bad hurt!" She gapingly said, fidgeting to bring Sherlock nearer to John. "Hello sweetie." John replied with a decent and weak chuckle, his gaze traveled to Sherlock with a meaningful tinge smile which Sherlock nodded briefly in response before sitting next John's bed on a  
Chair with Rosie on his lap.

"Dad, You have a lot of wounds." Rosie acclaimed along with hatred and woe. John deepened his smile as he brought his hand slowly and touched Rosie's tiny fingers. "I'm fine, baby girl and they will be gone in a week. No need to worry." John swallowed, he glued his state to Sherlock as if he had a lot to talk. "Tell me how do you feel right now? Do you have any pain doll?" John asked, he heaved a little causing him  
hissing in grief. Sherlock unconsciously pouted slightly.

"I don't have any pain, daddy. I just feel sleepy." Rosie replied. "It's because of the Anesthetic medicine which made you sleep during the surgery baby girl. You should drink water more and rest." John said, his prescriptions always made Sherlock smile internally. 

"I'll do that dad." Rosie said while her eyes were repleted with worries, bruise and wounds and bandages were all over John's body, the gash on his lips and corner of his eyes with his dried blood in nose. 

"Rosie, I am very sorry." John uttered, his voice anguished and honest while he was still looking at ich blue eyes of the curly haired man. Tears shimmered in his eyes. Jawn.

"Daddy, im not mad at you... i Just." Rosie stopped, she turned and hid her head into Sherlock's chest. Sherlock didn't expect such a reaction, he slowly rested his hand on Rosie's cap as other one was holding the little girl in his embrace. Poor little girl was afraid of losing the only person who cared for her. 

John closed his eyes, escaping a tear from the corner of his eyes. "I never leave you baby girl.. I promise." John softly assured, caused Rosie's greenish eyes shifting to furtively spotting John. It caused John chuckling. Sherlock's lips twisted up when he saw and heard that sweet smile of his doctor.

"Actually we should thank Sherlock otherwise you didn't have me right here." John pointed to Sherlock with his eyes while a benevolent smile maintained on his lips. Sherlock stole a glimpse from John but soon he felt his cheek blushing.

"Mr Sherlock you're my new favorite superhero." Rosie giggled before heaving a bit and kissing Sherlock's cheek. Sherlock's wide eyes shifted to Rosie. That cute little kiss just melted him. How amazing that felt. It was like he was loved deeply even if it was for two seconds.

"Tha.. thank you, Rosie." Sherlock gently said, he smiled deeply at her until he suddenly spotted John gazing at him like a man dazzling to his beloved spouse. 

"The great Sherlock Holmes, saving the day." John said, expressive and audible, looking praisingly at Sherlock. "Didn't know that I have super powers." Sherlock muttered, rolling eyes funnily.

"By the way, with great powers come great responsibilities." John arched back an eyebrow with twisting up his lips into a smirk. Sherlock's heart cringed at those smirking.

"Stop rooling the red carpet for each other for God's sake." Molly interned as she badgered. Sherlock snorted.   
"Don't make a scene ,Hooper. By the way a bird told me someone was killing herself when I was under operation." John retorted, arching an eyebrow while he endeavored not to move his whole injured body and especially where he got shot. Sherlock internally chuckled at Molly's rolling eyes. 

"You cry wolf! I'm here with two news. Which one do you prefer me to tell first, the good or bad news?" Molly looked at the other three persons in the room.

"Good news for heave's sake." John insisted. "Our little Rosie will be discharged from hospital next week. She just need few injections daily due to her bone marrow transplantation." Molly eagerly announced, John's smile deepened. Sherlock looked at Rosie happily, stroking her arm softly.

"That's fantastic! Rosie will be home with me soon." John said with alacrity. "Dad, you should then take me to Disneyland as you lost the bet." Rosie giggled. "What bet?" Sherlock curiously asked. John coughed. "We bet over you, Mr Sherlock and dad lost." Rosie responded. Sherlock pried in John's side. "And it was over?" Sherlock asked. John avoided eye contact with Sherlock. "And the bad news?" John turned his voice louder. "Very Naïve." Sherlock snorted from the way John dodged the question. He was blushing while pretended to be ignorant.

"John, you have lots of open wounds on your body except your very sever bullet wounds. You've fiver and as you know infection is still in your body-" Molly's fast speed speech got stopped by John. "What do you want to say by all these?" 

Molly lingered a bit by chewing her lips. Sherlock narrowed his eyes, already knew what Molly attempted to say. 

"That you should be in hospital or taking care by someone at home because you can't even properly walk or take a bath." Molly finished her saying.

"Well, you can help me maybe?" John acclaimed. "How can I take care of you when you gave the whole bloody hospital authority to me?" Molly crossed her hands. John shrugged slightly before looking down at his hands. Poor doctor didn't have anyone to help him. Wait..

"I can help him. There is no need John being hospitalized here." Sherlock finally talked. All the eyes found their ways to stare at him. "Sherlock you don't ha-" 

"I don't have to. I want to." Sherlock dominantly uttered. John lingered his gaze on the curly haired man before opening his mouth to talk.

"Can I talk with Sherlock in private please?" John looked at Molly as she nodded with a sly smile, taking Rosie from Sherlock's lap carefully.

"You owe me a kiss and hug later, Rosie girl." John recorded adorably. "Okay, daddy." Rosie giggled, she wrapped her tiny hands around Molly's neck, winking at Sherlock as they both left the room to let the two men being alone. My clever girl. Wait... my? 

John's attitude was staid, he was gloating to his pulse oximetry probe on his index finger. Sherlock laid back to the chair, crossing his legs as he slipped his hand to his trench coat and grabbed his lighter before holding a cigar between his lips. 

John looked at him when he heard the sound of lighter ignition. Sherlock sucked the smoke deeply, holding it few seconds before blowing it in repetitive circles of smoke. John glared in poker faced as if Sherlock attempting to tantalize him. Surpassingly Mr against of smoking, didn't say a word. Sometimes Sherlock imagined if there was John's face on cigarette boxes as the warning instead of some rotten disgusting lung pics. 

He then sucked it again and felt as that sweet burning sensation curled through out his lungs and throat, puffing it out in more rings. He wanted John to break the ice by mouthing his famous exclamation words. Jesus.. for Christ's Sherlock...  
But oddly he was earning only John's voraciously staring. 

Sherlock needed to drink in the silence to counteract the fear that threatens to engulf him. This kind of thick silence would normally chill him, especially when he refers to his mind palace but this time silence treated him like a slave. Common doctor.

A tinge smile formed on John's tiny soft lips, he shook his head as his gaze softened on Sherlock. "Jeez.. Sherlock turn it off before nurses catch you." John said, his voice dropped an octave from minutes ago. 

"According to your beloved novel, I'm committing something you'd praise." Sherlock teased John, he was talking about John's recently finished novel, 'the man without rules'. 

"How did you even find it out?" John squeezed his eyes within a slight frowning. "I saw it in your house when I was looking for a sign to find you." Sherlock answered calmly, he crumpled the cigarette in his hand before throwing it in the bin with a calculated tossing. John chased Sherlock's throwing, he was pondering. "Listen, Sherlock.. i still don't know why did you do that.. I mean.. why did you survive me. Don't get me wrong, I genuinely am thankful to you for saving my life, Rosie's life. I just want to know what made you do that, considering the fact that you don't care about me." John lingered his gaze on Sherlock, his voice was deep and quiet, calming. 

"I don't know, John." Sherlock lied, he was too afraid of telling the truth. What if he'd be rejected? He ignored John enough to finish John's endurance and his feelings towards him. What if he was tired of proving his love to the curly man and wanted to put an end to this one sided love. 

John sighed briefly. "You don't know or don't want to tell me?" He avoided looking at Sherlock by adjusting the IV speed dropping. Sherlock remembered he was about to kiss John hours ago.. of course John didn't know exactly of his attempting but it was sort of evident. 

"John, let me take care of you for few days before you get your health back, of course if you accept my flat above your royal palace." Sherlock quickly uttered, seemingly John was digesting his words from his speedy sentences, caused him forgetting that Sherlock just evading the answer.

"I'm not a materialistic asshole, Sherlock, plus I love your flat. When I was there that night, i really felt cozy. Of course the clean version of your flat." John chuckled slightly, bringing a smile to Sherlock's lips. "Accurate." Sherlock agreed. "I should first go to my place to grab some clothes if you don't mind." John said, Sherlock nodded. "Sure." He assured.

After an hour checking up by the surgeon, John charged off from his own hospital whilst they gave him a pair of crutch to be able to walk. His legs were too hurt by Jim's crops, indeed Sherlock was afraid if he spotted whole John's injured body. 

Taxi was waiting for both of them. Molly was standing with Rosie in her hug, watching Sherlock helping John to get in the car. It took like half an hour until John gave up getting in the car. He was hugging and kissing his daughter, compensating those times he was far from her. 

The cabbie was driving with a proper speed, an enjoyable silence was settling between them, Sherlock found John watching the streets, shops and people from the window, he was hiding all his wounds with his attire perfectly except his gash on his lips and scratch on his cheekbones. John laid back on the hammock, seemed like feeling himself swing for a while. In the distance there was traffic, but far away enough not to bother both of  
them. 

Later they stopped by John's house as he grabbed few clothes and his toothbrush and other necessities. Sherlock didn't let John carrying anything. They then got to 221B. John sighed when he saw lots of steps are waiting for him to climb until Sherlock's flat. 

Sherlock contemplated shortly, he grabbed John's clutches as fast as a thief pick pocketing, before John finding time to protest, Sherlock wrapped a hand around John's waist. 

"Let's go, Captain." He acclaimed sternly but sarcasm was obviously clear in his tune. John chuckled, revealed his beautiful teeth as he put his hand around Sherlock's neck before they stride the steps up to the flat. None of them knew what will happen during these days, living together. (Except Ms Hudson lol)


	10. Chapter ten

John's POV

It was almost six in the afternoon. John was sitting in the living room which warmly lit by the sun trying to prise the last of its amber limbs. The sky was dyed pomegranate pink, John's eyes kept darting to the line where heaven touched earth. His wide eyes witnessed the resounding glowing collision. Sparks lit the sky and blood poured, as the glory of paradise descended further behind the seam of the world. All of a sudden John felt small as he glanced over his shoulder and saw his shadow slowly shrinking towards his feet. John looked back to the line, only a few bright streaks remained to signal heaven's passing. The sun had set.

Despite how short John had seen Sherlock's flat, He still remembered everything about the place, surprisingly felt as if it was his home in his previous life. The sound of kettle barking slightly on the stove was calming for the doctor. Since Sherlock brought him to his flat, it didn't take much but three hours, which John had spend it by taking a nap on the couch, Sherlock was out to buy all of John's meds and learn how to take care of the injured sandy haired man. John's heart just cringed, knowing how suddenly Sherlock started caring and devoting himself for John. 

John still couldn't believe if yesterday in the warehouse, Sherlock was about to kiss John or was it only a hallucination. John's heart craved even more for the curly haired man. The way he was weeping tears, shouting John's name while his arrogant and dominant face were turned into a total emotional man which was desperate. John always knew Sherlock had sentiments but it was intentionally hidden to protect himself. John was scared if he attempted telling Sherlock about his feeling again, he'd be recoiled. And if this happened, then John couldn't stay with Sherlock. He didn't want to lose the chance being near to the love of his life, near to Sherlock Holmes, even for few days.

On the flip side, John was angry. Clearly Sherlock's heart was giving John more credit than any other people in or out of his comfort zone. Moriarty had stunned about Sherlock being too emotional over the Doctor. 'You didn't even have these feelings toward me!' John reviewed every scene in the warehouse. Sherlock didn't have any logical answer for that. The man without rule got run by his emotions but in a den of his mind. John was angry about that. He hated witnessing the lack of Sherlock's authority over his mind. Why couldn't he deduce that his mind has some errors too? John's fist got tighter on the handles of the couch. Waiting was like a vivisection to the older man.

John's deep thoughts were all wiped by the sound of footsteps echoing softly, whilst sounding loud enough to be able to hear, like the booming heartbeat. Those footsteps were pretty much familiar to John. A tinge smile crept on his lips.

Soon enough John heard a door open and shut, its creaking noise bringing a chill to his spine. The scent of vanilla and a sweet musk like bubble gum hit John's nose. 

"Sorry for the delay. The stupid nurse couldn't instruct me the usage well so I went to ask a decent nurse." Sherlock muttered, taking his trench coat off and setting the bag of meds on the table after he got rid of his coat and scarf. "Thank you, Sherlock. I am really thankful to you." John tried not to act awkwardly but he failed when he uttered his sentences by staring at nothing. Even looking at him could make John's nerves pulsing, agitating him and probably yelling what has stuck in his heart.

Sherlock waved his hand as it's nothing before disappearing to his kitchen, washing his hand. "Tea?" He raised his voice. "Yes, thanks." John answered. "Stop thanking me, doctor." Sherlock retorted, John faintly snorted. He was right. Since he got to Sherlock's flat he had thanked him maybe more than twenty times.

"I thank anyone when bloody ever I want to." It came out from John's mouth. His eyes flashed with indignance and anger, much like lightning on a pitch black night. Anger boiled deep in John's system, as hot as lava. The pressure of this raging sea of anger would force him to say things he did not mean, or to express thoughts he has suppressed for weeks. He clenched his fists, his neck was flushed and mottled. He took effort to control himself before erupting more his furious state.

the noises went off in the kitchen, John's gaze shifted to the tv screen. He could watch Sherlock standing motionless in his kitchen, his eyes bearing straight into John's back. "Are.. Are you alright, John?" His worries but still soft voice danced into John's ear. 

"Why shouldn't I be not alright?" John muttered. He saw Sherlock's gaze back at the kettle. "Good Point. Why?" Sherlock replied with satire. Fuck you. His taunting were fueling John's inner fire. He rooted his jaw and clenched deeper his fist. Don't answer him.

Sherlock came back with two steamy mugs in his hands, he was wearing his black slacks and a navy semi tight blue shirt. (Which John wished the buttons popping off his shirt.) He handed a mug to John and sat on the leather sofa in front of John before taking a small sip of his tea.   
Sherlock Holmes, sitting in front of me while the whole day he was occupied finding my meds... why should he waste his time for me? Should I find a novel as 'the mysterious man' this time? Why the hell did it behave like that?

"What?" Sherlock narrowed his eyes a bit, fixing his stare at the front man. "What?" John blankly replied with another question. "You were muttering stuff." Sherlock set the mug on the table beside himself. 

Fuck a duck.

"Perhaps some inane words from the side effects of anesthetic meds." John stuttered, finding Sherlock humming fake way.   
He bloody heard. Too late Watson. He sipped from his mug much enough to burn his tongue carelessly as he pretended nothing happened, he rested the mug on the table beside himself. He could feel his crimson face from the pain of burning his tongue. Hopefully it didn't catch by the Mr genius.

"Did I do something wrong? I mean... at least today." Sherlock asked. His eyes were carrying woe while his voice was quiet as if he was scared. John exhaled and shook his head before a tinge smile forming on his lips. "Forget it, Sherlock." John murmured. "But-" "I said forget it." John's dominant voice shushed the taller man as he nodded briefly. Like a Puppy.

Sherlock glanced at his wrist watch before standing up swiftly and grabbing the bag of meds. "Time to change your bandages, doc." He announced by kneeling in front of John's sofa, between his legs. Jeez!

John hadn't let Sherlock see his wounds until now. He didn't want him feeling pity or even scared of the severity of his deep gashes all over his stomach, thighs and back. "I'm a doctor, Sherlock. I can do that myself." John insisted, his voice low and his eyes fixed on the pair of galaxy eyes. "If your lecture is done, shall we begin?" Sherlock rolled his eyes briefly as he held the plaster with his teeth while he was trimming sterile gauze dressings in smaller sizes on John's lap. 

John lingered his hands on his shirt, not sure to unbutton them. He didn't want Sherlock feeling guilty by seeing how brutally Jim had tortured him. Sherlock looked at John's hand, remaining on his collar hesitantly. "Take it off, John... please." Sherlock almost whispered. John gazed back at him, his eyes were peering Sherlock in a way to make him give in. "I've seen you shirtless before." Sherlock softened his whispering, peppermint scent spread towards John from his mouth. John sniffed deeply. He internally laughed at Sherlock's misjudge. 

"Finally I've caught a wrong deduction from you, Holmes." John chuckled coyly, Sherlock frowned a bit while his soft lips had a hint of smile. "Then correct me, dear Watson." Sherlock shifted his gaze to John's fingers on his shirt. This was when John noticed how long were Sherlock's lashes.

John sighed faintly, he started unbuttoning his shirt, he didn't tear his gaze from Sherlock which was kneeling between his legs. John was hoping Ms Hudson wouldn't come inside. It was apparently like Sherlock going to give John a blowjob otherwise why a man should kneel for another shirtless man?

When John finished unbuttoning his shirt, he leaned a bit as he took it off and put it away. Sherlock was tucking a gauze. "Okay, as the nurse instructed me, I'm gonna-" Sherlock's speech remained unfinished when his eyes got wide on John's body. His lips parted, forming a gape. Something that John knew would happen. Sherlock's eyes were as immobile as the rest of his face, as if news like that was impossible to absorb any faster.

"Lemme help you, Sherlock." John tried to distract Sherlock by taking one of the bandages but Sherlock's long fingers wrapped around his wrist, he sat on his knees to be taller as he pushed John softly to lay his back on the sofa. His eyes were shockingly scanning John's wounds. They were somehow like revenant movie from John's point of view. John's strong hand grabbed the slender hand of the taller man and rested it softly on the armchair.

his dark blue eyes were hungrily enveloping Sherlock's, like it could pull anyones feet towards him. 

Sherlock's hand slipped from the armchair on John's bold thighs unconsciously, made the shirtless man's firm chest heaving up.

The plume of Sherlock's breath billowed out and quickly dissipated not to let John feel it. Sherlock's hands found their way to wrap around John's wrists once again. The poor man was frightened as if his deductions were too far from the reality about John's injured body.

"Did.. did he do that to you, John?" Sherlock's mumbling made John gently twisting his own hand to hold Sherlock's hand but he didn't give up as his free hand started brushing between John's wounds on the skin of his chest, his stomach, giving chill down to John's spine and making his inhale and exhale quickened. John held his breath, Sherlock's touching was divining, driving him insane. He could feel the weakness in his knees. John was badly ready to have Sherlock right there.

"It's okay, Sherlock." John declared, hoping for Sherlock to stop. "No.. it's not okay, John." John could see Sherlock's eyes shimmering with woe like tears were prisoned inside of his aquamarine eyes. "It is what it is." John said, ran the back of his other hand on Sherlock's soft cheek, showing him a fondly smile. Sherlock fluttered his eyes slowly closed, John could swear he had seen this scene when on tv someone fondled a kitten. It was like Sherlock was calming by John's gentle touch on his face. 

"Is the rest of you like this?" Sherlock deep and quietly asked, he spotted John with a half opened eyes like fox eyes. John tilted his head. "Look, Sher-"   
"Please answer my question, John." Sherlock's scared tune halted John from any evading. He nodded faintly, looking at Sherlock's details. "This is why Molly insisted me to be taken care of." John replied.

"We need taking you to the bathroom." Sherlock concluded. "What? No, Sherlock. I'm not paralyzed, I can take care of cleaning myself for heaven's sake." John retorted, grabbing his shirt to put it on until Sherlock's hands held John's firmly. John sighed. "Stop it before you regret it, Sherlock." John threatened, delivering his deeper voice.

"Try me." Sherlock's eyes loomed into John's. "You asked for it." John said, placed his leg behind Sherlock's leg, pushed him down and as the curly haired man landed with a semi moan, John sat on Sherlock's chest topless. Sherlock groaned more like something else rather than feeling pain. John placed his hand over Sherlock's cupid bow lips, muffing any sound he might make again.

"What if Ms Hudson catches us like this? Ha?" John bended as he said with clenched teeth. 

Sherlock's glare sucked something out of John as he blinked some. He visibly wilted before Sherlock's first clipped word was uttered.

"But you can't wash and sterilize your back wounds unless you're an octopus, John." Sherlock said, his attitude faking-ly innocent. John exhaled noisily from his nose, glaring at the stubborn man underneath him.

"I'm not alligator to have short hands, Mr Holmes." John's voice rumbled like a storm deep inside of him as he hummed a tune. It was low and soft but powerful enough to send chills through the other body unseen him. Sherlock arched an brow. "My help won't kill you doctor." Sherlock whispered, his thighs were touching John's ones. 

"Fair enough." John agreed, his eyes were betraying his resistive lips not to laugh. 

You dirty man.

On the other hand, Sherlock's eyes rest, not unblinking but slowed; yet the effect was soft and inviting instead of harsh. Perhaps it was his lips that gave away the intention, not quite smiling but tilting as if they mean to. "Seems like you love attacking me." He said as a naughty smile plastered on his lips before gathering the bags of medical stuff and disappearing to his room, John's eyes fixed on his perfectly formed ass, he shook his head. 

John then stood, put the door on lock in case they got spotted by Ms Hudson. That would be totally awkward. You overacted again.

He headed out to the bathroom, taking his clothes off slowly while he was hissing in pain. His gashes were burning along with the area he got shot in chest. John closed the door as he turned the faucet on to replete the tub with proper warm water, not too hot to make his hurt body feeling more agonizing. Contemplating for few seconds as he came up with an idea. 

John poured shampoo in the tub, avoiding for transparency when he's going to sit there. He had seen Sherlock's full nudity for hours when he was painting him. He even saw his erection when Sherlock was horny to get into John's pants. But Sherlock never have seen John's private part. It wasn't like John feeling embarrassed to get spotted nakedly by another man because he got used to get shower in the army dorm with other men but he didn't have any feelings towards them unlike Sherlock. 

Sherlock was a bisexual man but John never found any absorbing from another male for himself. Questioning his sexuality after forty years made the doctor conclude that he just wanted own the Mr genius for himself... for the rest of the fucking world.

John waved out the bunch of thoughts that were occupying his mind by standing in the tub, consenting for its warmth as he sat in it, releasing the amount of pressure and stress he had during weeks of worries. Sherlock's bathroom was small but tidy and cozy. The walls were large format tiles of white honed travertine while the floor was white mosaics. 

Soon water made his flesh goose-bumped. His backside was nothing but rash, broken, even bleeding in places and it extends a little down his legs, along with his fleshes on his thighs. Painful no doubt. It must had happened when John bended his waist. He could see some of the bubbles were Pinky from his blood.

There was a catchy tranquility. John brushed his damp fingered through his hair, making them staying backward. 

The shower curtain suddenly ripped back and John flinched, water was cascading down his face and shoulders.

"Christ, Sherlock! You enjoy scaring me, ha?" John gave an annoyed look to Sherlock as he earned Sherlock's eyebrows curved in swooping arches over his piercing eyes . It reminded him of Alfred Hitchcock's movie 'psycho' 

"Do you need duck, John?" He asked, at first John didn't realize what did he mean but the sly smirk on his lips made him figure out his sarcasm. 

"Funny." John rolled his eyes. "I put your phone in the corner here. Your typical." Sherlock said. John just gaped. "Oh.. thanks." Sherlock didn't forget their phone call when John was taking shower. He asked him out on date which Sherlock counted it as going out with a stranger. 

John's thought separated him from reality as he figured out Sherlock took off his own shirt, remaining with his slacks. 

By the hammer of Thor.

John cracked an eyelid and raised a brow at the same time, watching him. Sherlock was half shadow, every muscle on his torso flowing from the light into the dark, his pale white skin so tempting to touch; every move giving away his strength. John sucked in a breath as his shirtless torso was exposed to him. Gawking wouldn't quite describe John's state. 

He was stunning flabbergasting, amazing, mesmerizing by his physique. He wasn't that muscly or filled with gigantic abs and packs. His body was drool-worthy. He had a chiseled chest and the skin on it was glowing healthily. His abdominals were sculptured to perfection as some tinge packs popped, instantly giving off the impression that he came out of a Calvin Klein shoot. Of course he did. He was a successful photo model. John clearly could see the amount of weights Sherlock had lost from the last time he saw his bare skin. Actually John didn't want to creep him out but the none masculine curved of his body made the doctor feeling his testosterone rising second by second.

"You lost weights, Sherlock." John acclaimed. Sherlock poured butadiene on a gauze, soaking it in a small water basin before looking down at the sitting man in the tub. "I'm fine." He answered short, he sat at the edge of the tub, dragging the barrier of the hole in the tub to diminish the water until John's belly, he then put it back. 

His eyes darted to the amount of John's scars again, his concerned eyes flashed down his body to the bruises on his clavicle. John smiled fondly at him, making his stiff stare softened. Sherlock started cleaning John's wounds on his broad shoulders, chests, arms and stomach. He exchanged John's bandages on his right chest where he got shot and covered it with a nylon to prevent water penetration during his bath. John didn't want staring at Sherlock's shirtless body. His eyes were counting the tiles in the bathroom to be distracted from the man he loves.

"Could I ask you to stand up if you don't ambush me and choke me in the tub, John?" Sherlock gently asked. "I don't have any more scars, Sherlock. Thanks for helping me." John lied, hoping for an acceptance from the curly haired man. Don't deduce me this time. 

"John, what kind of doctor you are? Do you like them to get infected?" Sherlock said, he sounded like mother. John hummed. "How do you know I'm injured from my thighs?" John asked curiously. Sherlock dig his hand to the bubbled water and brought it in front of John. "Your upper body doesn't bleed to pour blood, you're limping and keep trying to avoid brushing your thighs together, their trembling indicate you've injured there." Sherlock's rapid uttering finished. John pouted his lips as he nodded slightly. 

"Look, John.. I don't really care if your cock is only half a millimeter." Sherlock said, John pursed his lips with a death glare at him. "Shut up! Otter!" John's pissed off voice brought Sherlock into a mischief twisted lips while he started unbuckle his pants. Holly peaky blinders.

Sherlock soon got rid of his slacks along with his white boxer, leaving them on the floor as he entered to the tub, bringing his hand for John to get up after he pulled the barrier to suck the water. John prevented looking at Sherlock's cock. He could just judge it wasn't hopefully stiff like the previous time. John held his hand, standing with grieves, he suddenly felt emptiness under his feet as he was about to slip on the tub. It was when two strong hands wrapped around his waist, holding him firmly, John's body just pressed to a strong dry skin, his hands gripped at the higher shoulders in front of him, he looked up at the man who was gazing at him. 

"I got you, John." He said, his voice just like lullaby. John softened his grip, he felt blood rushed into his cheeks and neck massively while the other man was looking pale as if color had drained from his skin. John mouthed thank you as he stood on his own feet, forgetting his nude lower body that was vivid to Sherlock's sight. Despite the fact he owned a shorter height but John's organ was awkwardly big. 

"Are you okay?" Sherlock asked the question smoothly, the baritone of his voice reverberating through John's bones. The low rumble of his voice was comforting as it wrapped around John and carried him off to a world where sound was the power that could change everything wrong in the world.

He squeaked and then flushed lightly when he realized that Sherlock was waiting for an answer. "I'm fine." he piped. The chuckle that replied was that soft, rolling thunder that billowed across the dim room which made Sherlock's lips parted for few seconds. 

Sherlock turned on the shower as hot water started soaking both. The water poured down, it dripped by John's side, as everywhere went in a foggy illusion. The sensation of the steamy water calmed him, letting it beat over his head in steamy rivulets. Closing his eyes to the water as the heat soaked into his skin, John decided leaning against the cool tiles as his weak legs threatened to buckle. 

His mind swirled, and it was like he was standing under an everlasting waterfall. Ever so beautiful, but it can never last, He knew perfectly. Because something more beautiful and desirable was standing in front of him. Fluttering his eyes open, finding a pair of eyes sparkling like wild storm clouds right before lightning hit. Clouds of grey and electric blue threatened floods and fury while pupils dilated in something mysterious as John could  
call it passion for normal couples, eyelashes catching the water drops from the shower above them. 

John was drawn in closer, his pensive gaze melting into a smile. Sherlock's eyes were ping ponging between John's eyes as if he was searching for something there. John's amicably smile made him shifting his gaze to his lips and back to his eyes. Sherlock's face muscles calmed, he smiled without vanity. Those rare pure smile of Sherlock Holmes which made John feeling as if in that moment their souls have made a bridge. Steam was everywhere, they could only see each other among the dim light of the bathroom. "Pass me the soap." John ordered with whispering, Sherlock swallowed. 

John's face heated. He summoned enough courage to meet Sherlock's gaze. His baby blue eyes twinkled. He knows. He's trying to make me feel like this. He bloody knows acting innocently makes me harder.

John's penetrative gaze made the photo model obeying, giving him the soap. Sherlock stood in the other side which was behind John to make the doctor standing near the shower. He started massaging John's shoulders with his soaped fingers. His firm touchings were dragging exhaustion from John's soul. 

John closed his eyes, his lips were unconsciously parted as water was hitting his sturdy chest. He rubbed the soap on his own neck and chest. 

Sherlock's magical hands slipped on his waist, massaging his spine carefully not to touch his gashes. He must have saved some information about spa in his mind palace because it was feeling exquisite. 

"Do it again." John said, his voice huskier that the normal. It was when John let out a sound which was more like a moan. John's mind was quite fucked out by the man behind him. In that split second, Sherlock's touchings around his waistline made every nerve in John's body electrified. Hormones shutting down of his higher brain and the rise of his animal self, John's satisfying soft moan came out when he felt Sherlock's hand running lower, rubbing his flanks within hitting his warm breaths at the back of John's neck. 

John's another louder single moan made Sherlock's massaging stoped abruptly. John turned back, his head was under the shower, water sliding his face and robust body, he looked at Sherlock by half opened eyes, he nibbled on his bottom lip.

"Who told you to stop?" John asked more like he demanded. He rubbed the water on his face sluggishly to make his blurry vision more elicit. Sherlock slowly started coming to where John was standing, John didn't dare looking at his own erection. He came too near as John could feel the raising and falling of Sherlock's chest on his own skin. One look into John's eyes at the pupils blown so wide that his irises had nearly disappeared told John all he needed to know. Sherlock was fighting his urge not to run his feelings into action. Stupid rules of mr ruleless. 

"Seems like you love my ambush." John whispered, running his fingers gently into Sherlock's front hair backward to see his thick brows and those icy blue eyes. "Too much." Sherlock whispered back. John smiled deeper, revealing his teeth. "Never ever too much." John acclaimed. John slid Sherlock as he pushed him slowly under the water with himself, joining him to get showered while he held Sherlock's chin up with a hand. He met Sherlock's wet lashes and his piercing eyes once again.

"I hate seeing you hurt, Jawn." Sherlock admitted. John needed a moment to proceed what he had heard. I hate seeing you hurt...

"It's nothing comparing with my days in Kandahar." John declared leniently. "But you didn't volunteer to get hurt this time." Sherlock took his hands off of John, he laid back to the tiles as his hands were locked behind him, his head staring at the ceiling while water splitting down his body. Sherlock shifted his eyes downward, thick black lashes brushing the apples of his high cheeks. 

John sighed, resting a hand on a tile near to where Sherlock was laying back, he held Sherlock's arm with his free hand, causing the brunette hair man looking up at him. "If this was the only way to meet you in my life, I'd volunteer to do it million more times." John's sentence got finished, he let his soul smile through his heart and his heart smile through his eyes, that he may scatter rich smiles in sad hearts, warm heartedly and pure which made Sherlock pushing the doctor other side of the wall under the shower as he cupped his face, looking at his wet lips voraciously or better say passionately. 

John brushed his fingers through Sherlock's back hair and dazzled at his soft soaked lips which were dripping water from the shower. He was tired of being dubious or scared whether he'd be rejected or not. He could feel the weakness in Sherlock's body as if he was about to give up on his deep sentiments.

John ran his thumb on Sherlock's lower lip, causing the taller man gasping air while his eyes were closed. Sensitive, my dear Holmes.

John started omitting the space between their lips. "John... I can't." Sherlock held his hand gently on John's lips as he slipped it softly and stepped backward a bit. 

John was mortified, frozen to the spot. He felt traumatized, his legs felt like jelly. The bitter warmth of disappointment had now bloomed into a full blown, sweltering heat wave bursting through his face and triggering the waterfalls in John's eyes.

John looked at their bare feet on the tub, he nodded, Sherlock didn't want him. It was all just for the feeling of guilt he had. He didn't bloody like John. Why he should let him kiss? Why should he let John to be his boyfriend? He never could be Jim. John was now jealous of a dead man. Then why the hell were you crying for me? Was it acting? Reality? Dreaming?

"I.. I should go check my messages... waiting for a call from Scotland Yard." Sherlock avoided any eye contact as he said. John grabbed Sherlock's wrist firmly, compelled him to turn back, gazing down at John's feet. "Face up, Sherlock. I have eyes." John said sternly as the detective found John's eyes with his own. 

"You can't? What does it even mean? Don't tell me that you just fuck because this is BULLSHIT. Few weeks ago the fully dressed of me made you desperate to get fucked and look at us now! Your tears are hiding between the bloody shower! If it's not feeling then what it is? If you don't trust me then what the hell am I doing nakedly in your bathroom? Tell me what avoids you from me. Answer me, Sherlock!" asserted John with a dense scowl.

Sherlock remained silence. He kept dazzling at John's angry face. John's heart cringed at the side of his reticent attitude. He brushed his fingers into his wet midnight black hair.

"We both crossed the red lines enough not to reject each other more, Sherlock. Don't be scared of me. I accepted your nursing over me to have the chance to protect your feelings." John said, realizing the uncomfortable feeling of the other man when he noticed he was holding his hand too firm. 

"I... I need to be alone, John." He closed his eyes. "Please." Sherlock insisted quietly.

John lingered his vigorous gaze before nodding briefly, watching him swiftly getting out of the tub along with wrapping a white towel around his waist and leaving John in his steamy thoughts.

John could feel the ache and hapless in his heart. Another time feeling unworthy to live. John's felt the grief that was coming in waves, gruelling, stealing appetite and sleep alike. It was a shard in his guts that seemed never leaving.

He soon decided to wash himself and getting out of the bloody bathroom. John wore a pair of hunter green suede pants and light olive jumper while his hair remained half dried. He put his big adidas sack in the corner of Sherlock's bedroom. 

John let out a shaky breath. The dread and anxiety deadened his mind and body, closing his weary eyes. John grasped the doorknob, the cold metal sending a shiver up his already quivering arm. Deep breaths. His heart ricocheted off his rib cage and he slowly turned the handle till there was a crack in the door. For how long can I endure?

John shook his head rapidly disallowing his second thoughts to get the better of me. Come on, come on! He smoothed out the crinkles in his dress and fixed his fraying hair. Almost mindlessly John swung open the door to see Sherlock sitting behind the table, typing with the speed of flash on his MAC in the dim light of the living room. The weather was completely dark. The serenity of the atmosphere was like nothing had happened few minutes ago.

John walked to the living room while he was limping somehow, he dropped himself gently on the couch, watching the dark haired man reacting nothing towards him as he continued typing. John grabbed the remote, turning the tv on, changing the channels as if it was changing automatically. 

Boring documentaries, late night shows with tedious guests and repetitive news were all John flipping through them until he suddenly stopped on the familiar faces on the screen. "oh god yes." John murmured quietly, forming a lopsided grin on his lips. It was his favorite tv show, 'Good Omens'. John spotted Sherlock dropped his gaze from his laptop to the tv screen. John couldn't deduce if it was dull or interesting to Sherlock's opinion. Maybe he could break the shell of awkwardness from the bathroom incident by watching tv with Sherlock.

"Sherlock? Do you like watching tv with me?" John spontaneously blurted out. "What made you think if I watch crap telly?" Sherlock said, his eyes switched back to his laptop, his eyebrows scrunched in confusion. Bloody hell. I knew it. "Nothing... it's just what normal people do." John shrugged faintly. "Normal people are dull." Sherlock said, rolling his eyes at the laptop. John remained silence. He looked at his hands on his thighs. John wasn't a child to get mad if no one wanted watching, the point was the fact that he was in need of talking  
to someone, to get off what was in his chest. He didn't want to interrupt  
Sherlock's job more as he gave up, his eyes rested back on the flickering screen and found that in his brief distraction the commercials had begun. 

After the show, Ms Hudson came up with a bowl of food, clearly the only one that refused to eat was Sherlock. John was starving, he ate alone. He was thankful to the landlady for her generosity. It was around 11:00pm when John found Sherlock closing  
his laptop. It was the best time talking to him. John held the wall not to limp cause of his injured legs. 

"Sherlock, Do you have few minutes to talk?" John asked, his voice mellow and baritone. Sherlock blinked some, half standing as he stared at John's sight. "I'm busy." Sherlock contended dryly before slipping his hands into his night gown pockets. 

"Is tomorrow good then?" John asked again after two whole seconds silence. Sherlock passed from John as he moved straight to the couch, dropping himself on it dramatically before lying down and holding his hands into steeple. "I don't know." He asserted. John nodded half heartedly before attempting to turn back to go to the room that Ms Hudson has prepared for him upstairs.

"Take my room. I don't sleep there." Sherlock's tired voice halted John from walking more. John squeezed his eyes within a faintly scold. "But Ms Hudson made the room upstairs for me." John said. 

Sherlock's eyes were closed, his pale face was illuminated with the lamp beside him. "The room upstairs is rented, John. Sleep in my bedroom. Your meds are on the night stands." He retorted.

"thanks, Sherlock.. good night." John said, hearing no reaction from the taller man as he swayed his way to Sherlock's bedroom. It was odd. Ms Hudson couldn't make such a flagrant mistake by preparing an already rented room for John.

John spotted his sack still being in the corner, he walked there as he took his gray nightgown, getting rid of his shirts and trousers as he put it on his boxer. It was when he saw few pills on a plate together with a glass of water. Oh, Sherlock... a soft smile danced on John's lips, the heartless man was pampering him. John sat on the edge of the bed, taking the pills as he drank the glass till the end until his eyes were fixed on the periodic table of elements, hanging in a frame on the wall. John grinned faintly at the cute weirdness of Sherlock. 

He slipped himself under the blanket as he laid down, feeling as if Sherlock was there in his hug because everywhere of the bed was smelling Sherlock. His deodorant, the mingle of his sweet scent similar to gums and the fresh shampoo he typically use. The pillow, propped on top of the bed, was a washed out white with all the depth of a french crepe. John turned the night stand lamp off, he got used to sleep in total darkness. 

His body were all sore, aching resonated from the spot his got shot to the rest of his chest, causing John not to enjoy his breathing. His eyes got heavy as his ears felt an evocative sound of violin. It was Sherlock. He was playing his violin. John had never listened Sherlock's playing. It was mesmerizing, a soft delightful song which was definitely composed by Sherlock.

Something about the way Sherlock was playing violin set John's heart into the deepest of symphonies, deeply harrowing and torrential in the way it encompassed his body. John couldn't find anything as which held as much capacity in power as Sherlock's violin did. Its slender strings caressing Sherlock's long fingers, its curves were tenderly traced under his soft palm, standing in front of the window with his long night gown hugging his body were what John was fantasizing about the man in the living room.

John reverently rubbed his fingers along the silken mattress. He pressed his cheek to the cool pillow. The comforter was thick and irresistibly soft, like a billowing cloud. He toppled into it, relieved to rest his weary feet. Warmth and darkness enveloped him.   
Soon, Sherlock's playing made John forgetting his pains as he went into a deep sleep. 

How does it feel, Doctor? I'm gone and you're still deprived of his feelings for you. Isn't that pathetic? If I were you, I'd show some dignity and let him go instead of inflicting yourself into his life. He doesn't love you, you doofus! He just feels guilty. You're a burden to him, John Watson. We loved each other so much and still you can see the amount of love he has for me. The sorrow of losing me has depressed him. Can't you see? You caused this! You caused him losing me! You broke his heart with your stupid emotions, John Hamish Watson! 

An ominous boom startled John out of his abysmal nightmare. His cheeks were wet and his body was bathed in a cold sweat. The sheets were twisted around his limbs. His heart pounded against his chest. John was trembled. The remnants of his nightmare still clung to his mind, haunting him. It was when John succumbed and let out a frightened cry and buried his face into his shaking hands. Even his breaths trembled. 

The sound of the door getting opened came along with an obscure voice of calling his name and then feeling another weight on the bed as a nudge to John's ribs made him jerk awake to see Sherlock's worried face. How long was I out? I really hope it wasn't long.

"It's me, John. You were seeing nightmare." Sherlock cupped the doctor's sweaty face as he whispered him while he was sitting on his knees on the bed. Drips of sweat started slipping through John's face, looking up at the taller man. Each word of Moriarty was stabbing his heart like a knife. Sherlock's knitted eyebrow just released as he got surprised, witnessing John's disheveled face.

"John? What did you see?" Sherlock whispered, resting his hip on the mattress as he sat more comfortable, his hands were still cupping John's face, his thumbs were fondling John's cheeks. John closed his eyes, let the slender and artistic hands of his favorite man calming him. 

"I'm okay." John said between his dragged breaths. "No, you're not." Sherlock lowered his hand as he held John's chin. "Tell me Please." He said softly, John opened his eyes, watching Sherlock's blurry face. Trapped tears wouldn't let him to see him perfectly. "He was right." John murmured, he took Sherlock's hands gently off of him before grasping air into his dried lungs. 

"Who was right? John.. what did you see?" Sherlock frowned, he spotted the glass on the nightstand as he poured it with the water from the water pitcher beside. "Jim Moriarty." John stuttered his name, For a second Sherlock's face remained fixed by hearing that, he blinked some as he managed to give John the water.

"Drink this, then tell me what did he tell you." Sherlock's calming voice was pacifying him. John took few gulps from the glass. He brushed his fingers through his messy hairs. 

"I can't stay here anymore, Sherlock." John stated quietly, observing Sherlock's semi gaped face among the dim light of the nightstand lamp. 

"What.. what are you talking about?" Sherlock's eyes were wide, John could watch himself in them. "A month ago this night." John paused. Sherlock squeezed his eyes faintly. "What about it?" Sherlock muttered quietly.

"You were happy about your life, spending it with the maximum of joy and far from any sorrow." John sighed briefly before tearing his gaze from the mattress into Sherlock's eyes.

"I thought I could bring something good into your life, promising you a better life while what I've done to you was nothing rather than taking your happy moments." John smirked bitterly.

"Jim was right, I can never win your heart over him. You two were so good together. Both of you were smart, adventurous and passionate toward each other. I don't know what made me daring to express my desires to you." John swallowed. Sherlock was listening to each words carefully.

"The day I asked you out, it was Rosie who told me I'm worthy of you. She must have thought I could be as worthy as his biological father." John sucked more air to appease his hatred. He could feel Sherlock was holding his breaths, seemingly didn't expect to hear these words. Maybe the darkness made John admitting easier. 

"How can I acclaim of caring for you when I'm selfishly taking happiness from you? I want seeing you solving crimes without any other concerns, free of any guilts and.. and I want the fresh arrogant Sherlock Holmes which walked through my office weeks ago.. and I know it will be back when I'm gone from your life." John finished with his sayings.

"Whatever he has told you in your sleep was invalid, John. you see... Mori art ti." Sherlock raised his eyebrows slightly. "It means to die was an art. He never wished to love someone. He never had.. loved me and you've never taken happiness from me." Something flashed beneath the surface of his hardened expression and John hurried to investigate the sudden shift. It was too late, the emotion disappeared before he could identify it by Sherlock turning the nightstand lamp suddenly off. John squeezed his eyes in confusion.

"Why did you turn the light off?" John whispered in the complete dark bedroom. He felt Sherlock's breathing cooling his face as the man was sitting in front of him on the bed. 

"I can talk better this way." Sherlock stated low and soft, John humming in response. He was astonishingly enjoying the tranquility in the dark room with Sherlock. It was suiting.

"You think I'm taking care of you because I'm feeling guilty." Sherlock implied more like a question, his voice was like the magma chamber of a volcano, deep, but filled entirely with the molten rock. His voice could be powerful enough to make John's bones feel like they were leading to pull Sherlock into his warm embrace. John only kept dazzling the front while he could only sniff Sherlock instead of seeing his face.

"You see, John. But you don't observe." Sherlock's steady breaths among the silence in the room was the only sound to be able to hear. John's facial expression sank faster than a penny on a pond, his skin became icy and pale as white itself. That pacifying voice among the darkness was like a fuel to ignite his internal fire. 

"Then tell me what is with this caring stuff?" John asked with a silly rich tune. He could swear he felt a tiny smirk plastering on Sherlock's lips in the lightless of the room. "Oh, interesting. you count it as caring." Sherlock uttered another heart breaking assertion. John knew this won't end up in a good result except more disappointments. The only logical step that he should take was to walk out of Sherlock's life as soon as possible. Letting the man having his happiness instead of compelling him to trigger his feelings. 

"You better go back to your violin or whatever you were doing earlier. I'm sorry for the nightmare. I think I can sleep now." John said, reaching for the lamp as he turned it on. It was when Sherlock swiftly looked away as he managed to standing up. For a single moment John spotted something glassy on his cheekbone, like tear but he must have been wrong. Those stern and emotionless speech of him couldn't come up with tears.

"By the way.. I love when you play that." John sounded like a drum, but deeper, like a tuba, but deeper. It was smooth, just like butter. Sherlock's hand clenched on the door while his back was facing Sherlock. He lingered as if he attempted fighting with something. "Merci docteur." Was Sherlock's playful answer before exiting the room to the living room. 

John didn't meet his face after the lamp had turned off. Why he could talk easier invisibly? 'Whatever he has told you in your sleep was invalid' did that mean John had a place in Sherlock's heart? Of course not. He just attempted to say that he didn't feel guilty or attached to Jim's death. Sherlock was an enigma to John. Why then John mattered to him if it wasn't for caring? 

Next morning when John got up, he didn't find any sign of Sherlock in the flat. He decided to treat himself with a tea before packing his stuff. John walked to the kitchen, facing with the kettle boiling on the stove. It must be Ms Hudson. John made himself a cuppa while rain was hitting the window. John sighed pissed. 

Don't angry with the rain. It simply doesn't know how to fall upwards. 

John convinced himself as he walked out of the kitchen to sit on the couch. "Yoohoo!" John flinched, turning back to see Ms Hudson coming with a tray of two cups of tea. "Good Morning, Ms Hudson." John said kindly. "Good morning to you too, John. Where's Sherlock?" She said as she settled the tray on the desk where Sherlock's laptop typically were located. "I don't know. He had left when I woke up." John's gaze was on the cuppa in his hand and the tray on the desk. "He's always dashing up, just like my husband." She said. 

"Ms Hudson, so you didn't make tea while ago, right?" John asked, Ms Hudson shook her head. "No, John. I just came up with these cups right- oh! you mean the tea in your hand wasn't made by you?" Ms Hudson asked surprised. "No, i didn't make it. Must be Sherlock before leaving." He said. 

"He always surprise me." Ms Hudson chuckled slightly, John's gave a smile which was genuinely sweet, he felt warmth rushing in him. The cute curly haired man had made tea and rushing out not to face with his doctor after last night incident. Many incidents actually.

"Um.. Ms Hudson. You told me the room upstairs belongs to me currently, am I right?" John asked, resting the cup on the desk as ms Hudson sat where John was sitting yesterday. "Yes, John. I prepared the whole room for you. Were you comfortable there last night?" John ruffled his hair, digesting what just ms Hudson said.

"You stupid genius." John muttered from his undertone along with a smirk. "What?" Ms Hudson looked confused.

"Well, Sherlock told me you've rented the room upstairs yesterday and he offered his room for me... actually I slept there alone." John acclaimed. Ms Hudson arched his eyebrows back in gawking. "Why he should say such a thing. Of course I haven't rented that room. Sherlock told me that he wanted taking care of you." Ms Hudson said. John hummed. Taking care of me...

"This is a bit Strange. Isn't it?" John murmured, gazing at the rug. "Of course it's not odd, John. Sherlock wants to be near you as much as he can. He just can't express it." Ms Hudson giggled faintly. John tilted his head, frowning. "Sherlock wants me to be here with him?" John asked, didn't believe each of the words he was uttering. 

"He never talk about his feelings, John. But I've known him for so long. I can figure out what's wrong with him. I can distinguish when he feels sad or broken, stressed or angry even if he doesn't show any signs of them." Ms Hudson paused, she inhaled air, looking for words to say what has stuck in her heart. John gave her one of the cups before sitting on the black leather couch where Sherlock typically sat. He handled the other cup as his full attentions was on the landlady. Ms Hudson took a sip as she continued.

"Since the day me and Sherlock met you in your hospital, he has changed. He tried to occupy his mind by constantly solving crimes or going to different locations for photo shoots. He didn't meet anyone as his usual.. you know what I mean.. his one night stands." She paused, looking at the cup. 

"When you two were in Paris, one night Sherlock called me while he was sobbing behind the line, his voice was trembling, John. He told me that he left you for a girl and they slept together. He said those few minutes were agonizing." Ms Hudson said, she wiped the corner of her eye not to wipe her mascara.

John could feel his heart beat... every single pound in his chest. Not through his ears, they were occupied with hearing Ms Hudson's words. He didn't know what to do anymore. Whenever he tried to express his feelings for Sherlock, he got stopped by him. And now his landlady acclaimed that the curly haired man has fallen for him? Maybe solving  
German enigma was much easier than Sherlock's cryptical behaviors.

"It's all about you, John. He has emotions like others. He just forgot how they used to cheer him up. He trusts you already. But he's not sure whether you have strong feelings for him or not. Sherlock is a man of actions not words, John." Ms Hudson stated as if she knew what was in John's thoughts.

"If I was sure Sherlock didn't give a shit about me, i was gone from his life sooner because I don't want force my feelings to him. He's blowing hot and cold on me. I want to assure him that I am deeply madly in love with him... but I'm afraid if he rejects me more. Last night i told him that I'll leave this flat today. It's too hard, Ms Hudson... seeing him near me and not being able to be with him." John rubbed his eyes, feeling agitated, mad and lorn. "You don't have any idea what I want to do to him when he talks, walks or when he looks into my eyes even for a tiny single second." 

"I appreciate what you've been through, John. Just be patient. Time will solve everything. Just don't leave him alone when he needs you the most." Ms Hudson said, John nodded, both looked at the door, finding Sherlock was standing, his hands slipping in his trench coat while his hair was damp from the rain. 

"Good god, Sherlock you should have wrapped up yourself more! It's freezing outside." Ms Hudson implied worriedly after she stood up.

"Colds and the flu are caused by viruses, not by temperature, Ms Hudson." Sherlock swiftly retorted, his gaze was focused on the sandy haired man in front of him. John smirked, shaking his head. 

"Whatever, Sherlock. I should go. Ms Turner needs my help. Take care you two." She said before striding the steps down. 

John passed from Sherlock into the kitchen and put the cups on the tray to wash them up. "New location, ha?" John decided to break the awkward silence while he was washing the cups in the sink. He didn't hear any reply. Typical Sherlock. "Or maybe that inspector.. what was his name? Aha! Lestrade, had a case for you." No answer again. I should have a word with his parents. 

John was staring at the wet scotch in his hand. "Lemme deduce then. It wasn't Scotland Yard. You seem calm otherwise sergeant Donovan would jog on your nerves. You were at Barts then." 

He was speaking with no one. Sherlock must have gone to his room. Who wants to talk to me indeed? A boring middle aged doctor.

John sighed, he jutted his bottom lip out, redirecting the air-flow to his front still military haircut hair while his back hair was much longer than before. For that brief moment his hair fanned upwards before resettling just over his forehead again. John finished with washing as he turned to see a pair of icy blue eyes staring. 

"Holy guacamole!" John murmured, not jumping and grabbing knife like the last time but he felt blood escaped from his face, looking pale as he saw Sherlock was standing with few centimeter space behind him, gazing sternly as if he wanted to punish the doctor.

Purple shirt again.

"Really inspired by your not trying to stab me, John." Sherlock said, sarcasm never leaves him even in his serious look. 

"Well I got used to this dick all the time puzzle solver." John snapped, holding the cabinet not to fall. He checked Sherlock like a scanner from head to toe.

"I'm afraid to say your deduction is wrong this time, John." Sherlock said, darting his gaze back to doctor's eyes.  
"Eager to hear your correction then." John laid back to the cabinet as he crossed his hands, looking up at the taller man.

"I thought you'd be gone by now... so I decided not to face with your leaving. I decided to take a walk." Sherlock admitted. He suddenly avoided his penetrating gaze from John.

John didn't dare to move, he daren't even breathe, He was frozen to the spot. John could feel his heart pounding in his chest...duh-duhn, duh-duhn. Deep heavy breathes sound nearby. Sherlock couldn't endure seeing John leaving him?

'You see John but you don't observe.' 

John remembered Sherlock's saying last night. "I don't understand." John muttered absentmindedly, Sherlock rolled his eyes briefly. "You hear and don't understand too? How did you even become a doctor, John?" Sherlock gave a poker faced look to John, causing the doctor laughing inside.

"It's all your fault, Sherlock. Your integrity of being excel in everything makes me feeling unworthy." John snapped with a praise. Sherlock blinked some, he looked down, brushing his fingers into his curls, ruffling them a bit. Can I brush my fingers in them too?

"You're not unworthy, John... if you were valueless, I'd have way too sooner deleted you from my life." Sherlock acclaimed, his eyes still fixing on the floor or John's shoes maybe. John's heart beating got louder like cacophonous thrumming rhythm. "Look at me, Sherlock." John softly implied, more like a whisper. he was looking at Sherlock's long lashes. He showed his electric blue eyes once again by looking at John's darker blue eyes.

The corners of John's mouth lifted up into a smile and it hurt because of the cut on his semi swelling lip but he didn't care. John let his smile widen into a brilliant grin. 

John noticed how Sherlock's irises we're fixing on his three days stubble. The wisps of hair straggled up his masculine cheek bones, sharp jawline, they were hiding the semi tanned skin of doctor's even face.

It was then Sherlock gave John a smile that just seemed so genuinely sweet with just the right touch of shyness that unexpected warmth rushed through John, his fear whisked away like a bunch of fruit-flies caught in a heavy gust of wind. Excitement rushed through his veins. Happiness flared in John's eyes and for the first time in a while it began to in Sherlock's too. Even if the world around John started collapsing, his heart would not get crushed as long as he was looking at Sherlock which was dazzling back between the gash on John's lips and his pair of ocean eyes.

Sherlock had the most wonderful eyes, sometimes quite azure blue with shades of maya blue, sometimes with flint grey or mint green hints in correspondence to his mood. 

Maybe the foxy eyes of the taller man was applauding the same about John. Those deep dazzlings of Sherlock were like he was watching a masterpiece instead of another human being.

Sherlock seldom smiled with his lips, but it was his eyes that was shining instead, and his radiance made every man and woman who saw it feel irresistible not to smile. His eyes never could lie his current contents. But now his lips were supporting his happy eyes by smiling alluringly.

But that smile died faster than wisps of smoke dissipated after a candle flame has been snuffed out, but those piercing eyes were still cheerful.

"Does this smile mean you're staying?" Sherlock asked, his tune velvety and steamy as if it came out of the bathroom. 

Observe and understand, Watson. 

"Yes." John whispered, didn't let the other man to utter as he continued.

"I was so stupid, Sherlock. It was like i was blindfolded from the truth. But right now.. your smile clarified everything to me." John paused, he held Sherlock's hand as he rested it on his own chest. Sherlock's eyes shifted to gaze at his own hand on John's shirt, where his heart was pumping fast. 

"I don't need you to get changed, to show emotions or telling me kind words. The first time we've met , during days and weeks we've passed together... made me madly addicted to you as if you're the only drug I can appease with. Why should I be selfish and break your heart by forcing you to like me? You make me alive and happy even if you don't talk to me or ignore me for the rest of the day. Being beside you, near you or even seeing you time by time can charge me... the daily dosage of Sherlock Holmes is enough for me to start and end my everyday." John quenched his utter softly. He felt Sherlock hardened his fingers as he grasped pile of John's shirt, digging his fingers slightly in response.

"You keep surprising me, doctor Watson." Sherlock said softly, he smiled sweetly. John chuckled sightly. The sound of door knocking made both men flinching faintly.

"I wonder with which bunch of people you were talking before to count this as supersizing. Don't tell me that you were into some octogenarians and acting as their sugar baby?" John claimed as he started at Sherlock's eyes.

"I'm 35 years old with more wrinkles than my own age and Sugar daddies are hitting on Millennials not me, dear Watson." Sherlock asserted while his lips were holding a laugh. John snorted as his comment.

"Sherlock! It's been an hour I'm calling you!" Said a man in his late thirties, grizzled hair, looking desperate and tired. "What is it Lestrade." Sherlock muttered, he focused on the man. John now realized he was the inspector who asks for Sherlock's help when he sticks in mud. 

"Few hours ago we've received a mobile phone without SIM card, there wasn't any finger prints or any other authentication on it. There was only a single picture of a night club with a text written on it." He said as his eyes spotted John in confusion. "And the text?" Sherlock asked. "Boom." Lestrade said, his hands helping to explain. 

Sherlock grabbed the phone as he skimmed the photo, humming mildly before giving it back. "It's the pub I sometimes spend time there. They don't open earlier than eight." He said. John crossed his hands.

"You don't mean that he should go there alone, right?" John asked the inspector. "You must be doctor Watson. Am I right?" Lestrade smiled as he held up his hand to shake with John. "How do you know my name?" John asked with a confused scowl as he shook Lestrade's hand. 

"Sherlock has told me a lot about you. He says you makes him think better during solving cases." Lesteade said, John teared his gaze from Lestrade to Sherlock, finding him pretending being oblivious. John smirked. 

Sherlock grunted to John's smirk, rolling his eyes to the inspector. "I'll be there in time to check out everything." He assured. "What? No way. There should be at least back up!" John protested, his eyebrows knitting together. "John, the felon isn't donkey, she will assume." Sherlock snapped. "She?" John and Lestrade asked at the same time.

"Obviously. Look at the handwriting on the photo." John obeyed, he looked at the photo, finding no clues. "Sod it." John said disappointedly, earned Sherlock's snorting.

"I must get back to Scotland Yard, thank you sherlock for the help and nice to meet you again, doctor Watson." Lesteade said, John nodded before he getting out of the flat.

Sherlock dropped himself on the couch, biting his lower lip eagerly.  
"Look at you.. elated like a prisoner paroled." John snapped. Sherlock perked up and said, "John, you know this is much more interesting than next week new year." Sherlock said, alacrity was vivid from the flash in his eyes. John smiled softly. 

"I'll come with you then." John said, sitting in front of him. "John. You're injured. I won't let something bad happens to you again. Not anymore." Sherlock insisted.

"I was an army captain too, Sherlock. I can break people's bones while I'm naming them. plus, you know my way is highway. So not a pip out of you anymore because I'm coming with you." John said, his voice came out of his chest, using from diaphragm to talk, resonant and deeper. "Bossy." Sherlock muttered in defeat. The corner of John's lips quirked up.

It was around eight when Sherlock was waiting for John to join him downstairs. John sprinted the steps down. "Okay, lets hail a cab." John said, his eyes spotted Sherlock. he had worn his black slacks with a white shirt, hugging his curves fantastically. Sherlock turned back to face the doctor, There was no smile on his lips, only the hot intensity of his gaze that they both know was the start of the inferno to come. 

John had worn some product in his hair to hold his sandy hairs backward and glossier, he had worn a pair of black jeans and a black shirt which it looked quite a size small on him. John had wrongly grabbed it from when he hadn't served the military yet out of his wardrobe when he wanted to pack his stuff. The buttons were just barely holding around his pecs. 

John's lips curled up into a half smile from the way Sherlock was staring at his chest. "Enjoying the view, Mr Holmes?" John snapped, looking at the consulting detective playfully with his saphire blue eyes. Sherlock grunted, snapping his eyes off of John with linger. "What a pillar of modesty you're." Sherlock muttered, raising his hand to hail a cab. A giggle erupted from John's mouth.

The night was quite young when they got to the club. John and Sherlock showed their ID to the shelter before getting in. As soon as they entered, John felt it was like dancing on the Northern Lights; beneath the dry-ice smoke swirled an array of blues, acid greens, hot pinks and gold. The music played over the dance floor as if had fused with the bodies. Girls and boys were dancing, hyped but still not drunk, judging by the smell of liquor and their attitude. Well it was the beginning of the night. 

"Take my hand." Sherlock uttered, his eyes were fixed on the population among the steamy zone while he held out his hand for John. The doctor delivered a death glare at him. 

"Okay.. please take my hand your highness." Sherlock joked. "Funny." John muttered.  
People definitely will talk. John held Sherlock's hand, interlocking his fingers with him. "Unbutton your collar." Sherlock said, unbuttoning three buttons of his own shirt, ruffling his hair a bit with his free hand, making it a bit disheveled. John loosened his collar, feeling a chilly breezing fondling his throat. "What's the aim to be cool right now?" John asked, his gaze focused on the front like the taller man. 

"Pretending to be like others." Sherlock implied, walking with John to the counter bar, John firstly sat on high stool. His eyes still locked on the man that dragged over a stool to sit on, his breath even yet deep. The rest of the bar was a meaningless backdrop to him, mere stage for the drama to come

"American whiskey." John told the bartender, a young broad shouldered man. "Excuse you?" Sherlock furrowed his brows. "What? I'm a forty year old man, mama Sherly." John snapped, evading from looking into Sherlock's eyes.

"Don't call me sherly. We can't get drunk, John. We're on a case." Sherlock said, snapping his fingers for the bartender.  
"He actually meant a cola." Sherlock told the boy, he nodded and John rolled his eyes pissed off-ly. "Fuck you." John mumbled. "I tried, you didn't want." Sherlock teased, arching back his eyebrows. "Jeez.." John held his laugher. 

"I'm gonna check the backrooms. Stay here and if you saw anything peculiar, call me immediately." Sherlock stood as John grabbed his arm, facing him. "If you felt any danger, just tell me 'Vatican Cameos' and don't risk your life to prove that you're clever... we all know you're Mr brainy." John smiled with the mingle of worry and kindness. Sherlock's lips twisted up a bit. "Affirmative, Captain." He said before John letting his arm go. John felt his stomach cringing in stress. He didn't like Sherlock being alone in this situation, but he couldn't take brisk walking through the pub. 

Sherlock's POV

Everyone was soaking in the laughter and the smiles, dancing upon each octave in disco shoes. But meanwhile, back in reality instead of the carefree world there, Sherlock stepped into a shaded room that opened his eyes all wider, spotting the muted colours of the bottles and the glitter than finding every spark of light. 

As the night was going on, He got used to the sweat and liquor smell in this crowd, intoxicated by spirits and the moments. 

Laughter overpowered the jukebox. Conversations swirled in a dirty cloud of smoke, the stagnant stench of cigarettes hid within the collaboration of mephitic odours. A sharp smell of drink wafted towards Sherlock, like black plumes bellowing from the windows of a burning house. There was even a hint of sick tainting the fragrance of the room. Sherlock passed from the rest rooms, finding few juveniles having sex or trading drugs. 

"Wanna a quickie, babe?" Said a female voice, as Sherlock saw a wasted messy girl with her mascara down on her under eyes. "No." Sherlock muttered but the girl kept chasing her as she brushed her hand on Sherlock's back. "Common, i know You're hard as fuck." She insisted. "Go away." Sherlock rolled his eyes, the hallway was narrow and too steamy. Sherlock felt too hot as sweat was dropping from his neck. The girl halted him from walking as her fingers settled on Sherlock's slacks zip. 

"This could be so fun." She smirked. If it was one month ago, Sherlock would have had her right on the wall for whole two rounds but all he felt was disgust. Just a single month turned Sherlock's heart, his vast mind palace concluding that he doesn't want to have anyone in his life but John. He grabbed a fistful of her hair before hitting her to the wall.

"I could show you fun by turning your bloody face into a miserable bitch." Sherlock uttered from his teeth as anger was igniting his piercing eyes. She dodged immediately and flied out of the hallway. Sherlock brushed his ruffled hair as his eyes suddenly spotted a note sticking on a door. He walked there, his eyes resting at the written note on the paper. 

'He's allergic to catties like you.' 

Sherlock read it three times, murmuring each words. The handwriting was the same with what he had read on the mobile phone. Obviously the woman wrote it for Sherlock. Maybe she was interested in games, playing with people's lives while she wanted to bring Sherlock into an actual game. But what does she mean by 'he'? Catty? Sherlock squeezed his eyes closed to ponder between the crowds.

Think... think.. think! Sherlock yelled at himself, pressing his temples. Suddenly his eyes got opened, seeing everything blurry as if shock paralyzed his whole body. John!

Sherlock started running through the populated hallway to get into the main salon where the bar and dance floor were, willing his eyes to remain dry and his mind focused, keeping his own fears and grief away from his tender heart. If something happened to John, this time Sherlock will got a heart attack. He just started feeling the warmth of being loved by the doctor, trying to find a way to express his real emotions towards John. It was unfair if he lost him. 

Sherlock loved this man. He trusted John with his life. He was running through the hall to reach into his doctor. His mind was reviewing yesterday. 

Their shower. 

The way John lifted his chin with a jerk, and his eyes, a dark shade of blue, like slate in the rain, went steely, both of them as wordless as rocks. In that split second before his touch, every nerve in Sherlock's body and brain was electrified. His chiseled chests, protruding biceps with old scars and a single tattoo on his arm were cringing Sherlock's System to extend his hand and touch him.

He loved when John's hand ran through his hair, how his doctor loved the soft curls of him, watching it tumble as he released it. Or when his hand moved down his cheekbones to Sherlock's lips.

John was the only flame Sherlock ever needed. His fingers were like divine fire for Sherlock's soul, his voice intoxicating in all the finest of ways.

Not only John's because soul and his fetching character but also his attractiveness made the younger man absorbing to him.   
Sherlock endured such hard moments to control himself from wetly draped over the bone structure of John Watson's body. His expression was serious. Sherlock wondered if John knew how crazy that drove him, how it made him want to feel every inch of John's tanned skin. 

Sherlock felt unworthy of John's pure love. He broke John's heart many times while he was patient of Sherlock wanted him one day. That moment when John With a gentle finger reoriented Sherlock's face so that he held the gaze Sherlock didn't want to give him, stealing the passion from his eyes in a way that only magnified the spark, caused Sherlock's body and soul giving up to forget everything and let himself being worthy of John's Love. 

The only thing that made the brunette hair man halting from kissing this man was that the good doctor didn't deserve someone with dismal and exotic past like Sherlock Holmes.

As he arrived to the dance floor, he expected John's seat being empty but the scene was even more frightening. He was talking with the one that caused them to be here tonight.

She leaned on the bar, her semi short blond hair was standing perfectly above her plain tight black shirt. She lolled her head to one side, pushing out her red lips just a little. She wasn't drunk but she liked to give the impression that she was. The bar-tender was there to take her order in a flash. She twiddled her hair in a seemingly absent-minded way and giggled girlishly before ordering a Barcardi Breezer. Lip reading was too easy for Sherlock. She'd practiced drinking sexily from them at home in front of the mirror, just water in them then.

She was pretending being cool while John was angry? Maybe not.. he was sipping his cola, revealing that he had already a big argument with her? Oh why can't I deduce when it comes to being jealous... wait. Am I jealous now? Sherlock sighed. Heck yes.

What was her name? Sherlock remembered the first time he went out with John for dinner in that fancy restaurant. 'Mary had a cat which I was allergic to.' 

Double Vatican Cameos.

Sherlock found Mary's hand gripping John's collars, pushing him nearer to himself. But John isn't drunk! He couldn't understand why his doctor was coping with Mary's flirting. John darted his gaze to her as she decided to bury her head into his ex husband's neck, licking him there and using her fingers to rub John's robust chests. The sandy haired man's lips stretched wider, his eyes fluttering shut from aerosol.

Sherlock felt electricity in his skin, hormones shutting down of his brain into his tight pants, alarming him the wants. He was feeling the warmth of blood from jealousy. It should be Sherlock's hands massaging that body, kissing and licking his sharp jaws not that bloody woman. John's reactions were not natural. He looked over being horny. The former army doctor opened his reddish eyes, peering his hard gaze on Sherlock while Mary's hand was occupied massaging his nipple, kissing his neck. 

Sherlock grasped more air, he was deadly angry until John started blinking, sending meaningful digits to Sherlock. It was when Sherlock spotted a knife resting on John's back neck. You bitch! 

Sherlock walked out to them. "Excuse me, May I have the honor to dance with you?" Sherlock acclaimed, his tune was flirtatiously. John jumped on his stool slightly as he heard Sherlock's deep voice. The dense glare made Sherlock assumed John's feelings. An ex wife who turned into a criminal was get asked to dance by the man he fell in love. Of course Sherlock recognized Mary. What a case she was.

"How can I refuse it even? Right John?" Mary uttered with satire as he earned John's disgusted staring. Sherlock held his hand for Mary. Sherlock knew that John had figured Mary was the one who aimed the club to get exploded. Otherwise he wouldn't let him to dance with his ex wife who left him. Sherlock could see the shining through John's drunken eyes, not drunken with alcohol but by fears. His hair was ruffled from Mary's touchings. 

John laid back to the counter, his gaze was fixed on the dance floor as the song started to get played.

Sherlock grabbed Mary by the waist, pulling her up close against his chest. His hand gently glided through her hair, as he looked at her with taunting gaze. Her eyes were candles in that night, their light a spark of criminality. As a small but teasing smile crept upon her face, goosebumps lined her skin, not the kind than one gets in the cold, but the kind one gets when nothing else matters except the vicious desire. 

The music was a drug that brought everyone higher, higher until their minds buzzing with pure joy, except Sherlock and Mary. Each of their love was counted logically. 

Girls and boys continued their dance, and every movement was full of poetry. They advanced, retreated, pirouetted, their arms waving from side to side above their heads, their heads swaying, their garments fluttering, while  
Sherlock and Mary were dancing like dwellers aiming to shoot at each other. 

"I was so curious to know the guy that has stolen my husband's heart." Mary acclaimed, moving along with Sherlock's body. "Ex husband, actually. Plus you didn't need such provision and bombs to meet me." Sherlock snapped, his gaze spotted John who was gloating at him voraciously as if jealousy was melting him. 

"Don't get highly of yourself, Sherlock. Arrogance stops you from  
Survival." Mary held Sherlock's chin to look at her eyes. Sherlock frowned slightly, narrowing his eyes at her. 

"We're not even together." Sherlock implied. "John's eye fucking is stronger than any relationships, Sherlock... you're endeavoring to turn this machine into an emotional man once again." Mary said, she touched Sherlock's chest to remind him, he carries a heart.

'It's hard to see  
That you wanna be free  
'Cause I don't love you  
In the way that you want me to'

He couldn't lie to Mary too. It was true. Sherlock once again looked back at his doctor who was impatiently dazzling back at him along with the song which was accidentally expressing Sherlock's reality.

'I'm a machine  
An emotional being  
Since I was a teen  
Cut my feelings off clean, clean'

(Song: emotional machine by Marina)

"Time to choose, Sherlock." Mary whispered into his ear, causing Sherlock tearing his penetrative gaze from John. "Choose what?" Sherlock asked. "Between yourself and the people here... including your John." Mary imitated Sherlock. 

"You haven't put any bomb in this club, Mary." Sherlock smirked, determined of his deduction.  
"Maybe I didn't set any bomb, but the death of one person here would be worst than any bomb to you, Sherlock." Mary said, as he pushed Sherlock further before taking his gun out, shooting the ceiling, everyone panicked, screaming as the song got stopped, people made a vast circle around Mary and Sherlock, trying to stay as far as they could back. 

Mary pointed the gun at Sherlock's forehead, turning his head back to see the horrified face of John, who was walking rapidly to them. "Stay the way you are, Doctor Watson or I shoot your boyfriend right in his head." Mary ordered, sternly.

"No you won't." John's loud voice cracked. Sherlock looked calm but he was thinking for a way to rescue everyone there from her.

"Oh, try me then." Mary looked back at Sherlock, pressing her finger on the trigger. "No! Mary, wait!" John raised his voice, holding his hand to her side, his voice were imploring. Finally dominance was gone from the Doctor.

"I hope you could say something convincingly, John." Mary uttered, looking as if she was bored. 

"I know you don't love me otherwise you wouldn't have left me when I was dealing with my life in the worst situation. So lets come to bargain. I'll give as much as you want. In as so much that you won't need to work a single day. Just put your gun down and leave here, Mary." John implied, caused a loud laughing from the blonde woman. 

"You're still bloody cute, John! You really think I'm here to take your money? I'm here to get my revenge from your new handsome boyfriend." Mary looked back at Sherlock, his smile vanished as anger covered her face.

"What do you mean by that? How do you even know him?" John asked, he was confused. 

"I was one of his cases couple years ago, he caused me to lose everything I had. I suffered... enough for a life time to once again being able to stand on my feet. It can't be reciprocated by Money, John. He should pay back to me." Mary asserted, Sherlock was gazing to her blankly, he decided to talk. "You were a con and I found your case interesting. You failed your life, Mary Morstan." Sherlock's steady voice acclaimed. Sherlock couldn't even guess if John's ex wife was the same criminal he had succeeded her case. What a small world.

Mary opened his mouth to protest but John cut her speech. "Killing him won't make him to pay you back. You should kill me. I guess in his heart which actually he pretends he doesn't have one, there's a little place somewhere for me." John said, his gaze was fondly fixed on Sherlock, causing the curly haired man skipping a beat as his eyes felt burning to drop tears. He fisted his hands, trying to resist. 

"Don't hear his stupid none sense, Mary. I don't even like this pathetic man. Be a brave woman for once and give an end to my life before you regret it later." Sherlock said, trying to trigger her anger. He hated saying all these, he loved the doctor with all his heart and not just a bit of it. He couldn't endure witnessing John's dying once again. Sherlock regretted making John's eyes hopeless as soon as the words had leapt from his lips but the anger lingered regardless; not at him, but at the misfortunes he had had all the time in his life.

"Shut up, Sherlock just shut up! We both know it isn't true!" John harshly yelled, his tears started falling on his face, making Sherlock's eyes wide and his heart aching. "I see and don't observe and you feel but disclaim. Time is not compensable, Sherlock." John sniffed, Sherlock stared as if he was vanquished by demons. Mary sneered with taunt.

"Say good bye to your pathetic lover, Mr Holmes." Mary said, his finger started pulling the trigger, Sherlock closed his eyes, ready to get killed. "Goodbye my dear John." He softly said, wishing to hug the doctor for once in his life.

"NO!" John jumped on her and springing her wrist as Mary dropped the gun in grief. Sherlock's eyes fluttered open as they couldn't even chase the doctor's action synchronized. Mary slipped her hand into her pocket as she took out a knife. John walked back and forth to dodge from her stabbing as he stood in front of Sherlock. He was shocked until John pressed himself in front of the taller man while he was facing Mary who was pointing the knife.

"I swear to god, John if you don't go away, I put this damn knife into your heart! You taught me how to fight and believe me no one can defeat a person rather than its student." Mary threatened, her hair wasn't organized anymore, her hand was trembling. John gripped her hands backward, holding Sherlock's hips as he shook his head.

"I love him, Mary. I bloody love Sherlock Holmes and I don't fucking care if this knife drags into my chest if it can save him." John admitted. 

Sherlock's mind was sent reeling, unable to comprehend or process the voice that was being sent by his ears.   
Words left Sherlock. He stared into silver sandy hair in front of him, and his heart fell silent. He couldn't will his lips to move. As if stuck underwater, everything was slow and warbled. His mind was blank and his eyes wide as he stared at John in wonder. John didn't turn around to face Sherlock. From the glassy dancing ball, Sherlock spotted John's eyes desperately searched through Sherlock's... he was looking at him all this time. 

Sherlock had to say something. John Watson is in love with me? He searched his mind for something reasonable to say, but to his surprise it was his heart answered for him, "Sa- say it again." Sherlock stuttered, his voice was cracked.

John's words were like vanilla pudding, couldn't be true. Who could love such an heartless dick all the time?

"What you've heard is true, Sherlock." John ran his hands softly to caress where his hands were on Sherlock. He smiled sadly to the glassy ball. He finally had heard it from John. Sherlock found himself one more blow away from breaking in that glass. His hands succumbed his dominant mind as they held John's waist from behind, his arms that held him were soft, yet strong. The feel of John's body so close to his soothed him more than he had expected. How many times he deprived himself from hugging him back was quite stupid. He wished he could wrap his arms around John's body while he could face him but he only was holding his waist, sniffing the scent of his doctor.

"John, stay back please... for me." Sherlock whispered. "Don't tantalize me with that voice, Sherlock." John whispered back, Sherlock knew how John enjoyed his voice. He had many times seen it. Mary was a lucky woman. Just the imagination of having John in his life as a husband, was driving Sherlock insane. If the world was fair, it could bond Sherlock and John together and Jim with Mary on the other hand. Sadly life is full of sorrow.

"I count to three, if you won't go away, you will be stabbed, John and I mean it." Mary said, her voice steady.

"Go on. You should be too silly if you think I'd let you hurt him." John said, he gripped his hands on Sherlock's hips. "One.." mary started counting. "John, don't be nightwing tonight." Sherlock whispered, reminding him of the night he went with John for dinner. He heard John smiling.  
"Tow" mary raised her voice.

"She was my wife, Sherlock. I know her weakness. Trust me and be a good boy." John assured while Sherlock was suffering a terrible stressed moments. No my dear Jawn.

Mary raised her hand to attack John, Sherlock pushed John by his waist to the corner as he grabbed Mary's wrist, using his power not to get stabbed. He couldn't believe how powerful Mary was. "Don't resist, Sherlock. You're a smart piece of machine who only hooks people." Mary said, rage and hatred were defining her furrowed eyebrows. 

She is right... 

Sherlock's hand loosened as his mind inflicted Mary's words. But time was too confined to speculate as he felt Mary was conquering over Sherlock as the blade was only an inch away from his chest. 

BANG....

Mary's grip on Sherlock's shirt got loosened as she yelled in pain before kneeling on the ground. John had shot her in her left arm. Sherlock horrifiedly glanced back at John who threw the knife far away from Mary with his foot and pointing the gun at her. 

"This is exactly my face when you left me." John smiled sadly, looking at the miserable face of the blond woman who seemed shamed as she was holding her arm without pipping any words.

"Mary Morstan, you're under arrest. Every words you say may be used against you." Yelled a familiar voice. This repetitive sentence was quite absurd for Sherlock.

Sherlock looked up and spotted Gavin coming with two other sergeants, including the bloody Donovan. John passed the gun back to Lestrade. "You good, doctor Watson?" Lestrade said while the polices were taking Mary out of the club and suiting the people who were frightened. 

"I'm fine and thanks for trusting me with the gun." John smiled and the inspector nodded.

"What? You two planned without telling me? Brilliant!" Sherlock grunted while he was totally thankful.

"You're welcome Sherlock." Lestrade said, John snorted. "Could we leave here? I guess we both are quite tired." John said, looking at Sherlock meaningfully. "Yes, of course. Tomorrow I'll come for few paperworks in 221B." Lestrade implied. Sherlock nodded slightly and waited for John to walk with him, getting out of the club.

"I've called a cab." Sherlock muttered. "Thanks." John answered warmly, both were waiting in the nippy weather outside in the street, waiting for their taxi to come by. 

"You know, we need to talk." Sherlock just blurted out, looking at the front while both were slipping their hands into their jackets.

"Actually a hard talk..." John muttered, Sherlock hummed. "Can't wait." Sherlock replied.

A/N: I just realized there hasn't been any kiss between these two cute idiots :) well next chapter is full of lovely interactions guys ;)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: I'm back with our little beans, Sh & J :D  
I guess it's time for our Sherlock to prove his true feelings, right?

John's POV

When they both got home, the first thing John did was changing his clothes to get rid of the alcohol aroma. Indeed Sherlock seemed feeling the same as he preferred to take a shower. On the other hand John's body was on fire. His wounds were aching besides where he got shot. He winced silently in pain.  
There was a stake being hammered into his chest, the strikes radiating pain in a way that shattered his brain or at least that was what it felt like. His breathing was shallow. Once again John's emotions turned jagged.

He just confessed his love for   
Sherlock.

Soon the detective will tell him that he is not even sensationally attached to him and what will remain is another mental wound adding to John's collection.

Maybe Sherlock meant asking John politely to stop inflicting his love confession to him and leave him as soon as he gains his health back. A hard talk was actually a vague concept as John was dealing to guess what it would be.

At least John was relieved. He just took out what was in his chest. Each hour he had spend with Sherlock had emaciated his heart because he kept being rejected while he was madly in love with him. Indeed John was an addict. An addict to get high by hearing Sherlock's voice, watching his eyes or listening to his talking. No ones flawless but to John, the perfections and flaws both make someone beautiful. John felt light as a fur by admitting his feelings but he couldn't stop feeling downbeat as he was sure that sooner or later Sherlock will put an end to this relationship. John didn't know if it was even a relationship. It was more like a sick one sided caring which was getting recoiled none stop by Sherlock.

John took a glance at his watch, he wasn't sleepy even though it was 1:25 in the morning. Since they got to 221B, John didn't see any sign of Sherlock. He just rushed into his bedroom before closing the door. Maybe he was sleeping.

Maybe the taller man felt abhorrent after what he heard from John's mouth. Sherlock probably didn't expect those actual words from John even though he was the master of reading minds and feelings.

But Sherlock once told him that his heart betrayed his mind for John. What did he mean? And after that, John got rejected many times for attempting to kiss him. John knew the fact that Sherlock counted him something more special than other fellas but his holding back made John think that Sherlock won't give up to his mind. He won't listen to his heart and only will trust his brain.

John decided sitting behind Sherlock's table in sitting room with his laptop as he started to type. The document on the screen was revealing the incident an hour ago. John wanted to occupy his mind from more anxiety by typing what had occurred. Writing about his ex wife's betraying? Or the way everyone around him endeavouring to break his shattered heart. He actually tended to retrieve all the things he had solved and guessed with Sherlock by writing them in a mini blog he had created for himself. Maybe not mentioning Mary's identity but every bloody scene that John spend it with Sherlock was replaying in front of his indigo blue eyes. Sherlock's lips when was forming into a tiny smile when he was deducing or the way he was sharing his remarkable thoughts with John, the excitement in his eyes.. everything about him was making John to type more.

John was sunk into his blog until he tilted his head slightly skyward to the window beside him to give his eyes a rest, he could see clearly hundreds of bright starts dotted on the black canvas of night. Why was he even staying in Sherlock's place? They were supposed to talk but John was alone and pondering about unreal dreams in his head.

It hurt, it was burning him, it made him cry, made him sad... but It was making him alive. This love made John feel alive. When you feel alive, I can tell.. it worth's to be in love..

A cool hand suddenly rested on his shoulder. John's heart began to patter loudly as he turned around to see the owner of those long fingers. John soon looked at him with full content as his lips erupted a sweet smile which he earned the younger man's soft faint smile. Sherlock's eyes locked on John's. It was like John could see galaxies instead of pupils. John's body once again flared with passion.

"It's time to change your bandage, John." He said with his steamy voice as if it was a lullaby for John. Sherlock's hair was still damp from the shower, the scent of lavender oil was erupting from his skin, having red eyes from the probably hot water.

"Yes I suppose." Was John's soft murmuring before shutting the lid of the laptop down as he joint Sherlock in the kitchen. John could feel the wetness of his wounds under the bandage draining his energy out of him. Sherlock scanned the kitchen table before poaching a bin to the corner with his leg and throwing all the chest tubes and lab beakers in one action to the bin as the sound of broken glasses caused John flinching slightly while it didn't even change Sherlock's staring from the older man.

"Sit on the table, please." Sherlock said. "You just throw everything to the trash." John hesitantly said, more like asking, pointing the broken glasses. Sherlock rolled his eyes in a mischievous way.

"They belong to Bartholomew hospital, not mine. I can steal new ones." Sherlock said as John sighed and shook his head before a tinge smile plastering his lips. He heaved a bit and sat on the table, started unbuttoning his shirt.

Should I mention the elephant in the room?

John was glaring at Sherlock's butt as he was facing the cabinet to prepare the wound dressing. He was like a sculpture that earned heart and brain to live.

"If your study in my ass is done, please take your current dressing slowly off." Sherlock's blunt uttering made John flushing deep which his face had no difference with Pomegranate. "I wasn't staring at your erm... buttock." John muttered and started pulling the bandage gently off of his chest. He heard Sherlock humming in sarcasm.

Smart ass.

"As far as I remember, you wanted to talk." John asserted to change the awkward mood into another awkward mood, watching Sherlock's back (upper than his brilliant ass) while he was pouring sterilizing gel on the gauze.

"And I see it caused you having stress." Sherlock drawled his words as if it was sedating John, he turned back to see the sandy haired man who was sitting with his unbuttoned shirt. His eyes traced John's bare chest until they finally met John's eyes.

"If you be a man for once and stop sending me on a fool's errand, I'd be calm." It escaped out of John's mouth.

Sherlock's POV

Sherlock couldn't find his voice. He felt his cheeks flushed hot, and his stomach was heavy. His heart pounded in his throat, threatening to break out. John's eyes wandered around in fury before finding the taller man's. Sherlock's stayed locked on him. eyes weren't just ocean blue they had dark blue flecks in them, could make any human being sink into them.

when they locked eyes, Sherlock's heart beat erratically in his chest so hard that he felt as if he would burst. Looking at John felt like looking into the sun for too long - it almost burnt, but the burning sensation was satisfying to the younger man.

Sherlock saw John's chest tighten into a knot like a cramp and a quiet rage builds inside. How badly he wanted to rest his head on John's semi tanned and robust chest, letting him caressing his curls.

But between the redness of anger, John's eyes were like stars. The black of his pupil was surrounded by a ring of jagged silver fire swallowed by dark sapphire blue. At one glance his eyes merely shone, but if Sherlock dared to look closer he could clearly see the sadness of heartbreak, the joy of love, the hope of the future, the pain of sorrow, and the fire of a spirit that would never give up.

His stern glare was like a knife in Sherlock's ribs, the sharp point digging deeper. The unmoving gaze was accompanied by deliberate slow breathing, like he was fighting something back and loosing.

"Despite the fact that you're depressed, indignant and impatient to almost everyone, I wonder why are you still coping with me, John. Why are you making me worthy of you while I deserve the worst?" Sherlock said with a brittle voice. He felt the hatred in his throat but he managed talking. His doctor wasn't even blinking, just disregarding his silent salutation, continued to stare at him wild-eyed, as a damned soul in purgatory might look at Satan passing in regal splendour through the seventy times sevenfold circles of hell.

The small wrinkles on his face etched his attractiveness. Sherlock's eyes enthralled on him, at his high arched nose, the up and down of his steady breathing, the way he was rested his hands on the table with clinching, indicating his strong arm muscles. He had the sort of face that Sherlock forgot even he was staring at it. As John's mouth opened, it was Sherlock who interrupted. It was time to get what had stuck in his chest. Nothing could stop him from hiding them again. Not even John.

"That night I should be the one to get shot, to get hurt and even die. Not you, John. You caused me self loathing, feeling as if I'm a second Moriarty towards you. Why don't you release this anger behind your furious eyes and hit me hard, make me feeling less guilty, John? Why don't you do that?" Sherlock could feel the trembling of his lips, his cracked and already louder voice and the freezing of his fingertips. His brows creased and face tensed, finally gave up to his doesn't give a damn mask.

John, more dominant than anytime was heading passion in Sherlock's system.

"To kill you and me, there would only ever have to be one bullet for me, Sherlock." His deep honeyed voice pitched to Sherlock's ear, made his heart flip flop even more.

"John." Sherlock almost whispered.

John's POV

"I've experienced such a scene like this before. Waiting for the truth for so long." John suddenly said with his silvery voice. He didn't need to dwell on his thoughts anymore. The younger man stood in silence. John could feel Sherlock held his breath and darted his gaze on him.

"I remember the night that Mary told me the same thing... we've to talk." John inhaled, avoiding to look up at the man that was staring back with wide eyes. "I don't need to tell you because you already know what did she say." John gulped his gravelly voice and tried to have his composure. He could see Sherlock's fingers were into fist, gripping his palm by digging to it as if he was enduring something. But he was still standing like a statue silently.

"Each time I fell in love, it turned to poison, my mind cycles through emotions faster than a kid flipping radio channels. I've gone from level to rocky - fighting a mixture of competing emotions, each of them vying for dominance... It makes me alive each time before they kill them, turning me into the depressed man I was before that." John said, a single tear rolled on his cheek, he frowned at his thighs, sniffing before opening his mouth. Disguising his woe behind his masculine attitude couldn't be hidden anymore.

There was a cost in burying such pain in Sherlock's bones rather than expressing it freely as he wasn't standing stiff and straight anymore. His gaze was battling John's. His limp body began to tremble slightly. John scanned him before opening his mouth to talk.

"Some people come into your life and make you believe that your life is incomplete without them. Then they leave, creating a void in your heart that may fill back with time but will never be complete... some people say that heart is made to be broken." John smirked sadly. "Poor the heart. We smoke, eat terribly and break it with our emotions and then we expect it to work properly. Isn't that fool?" John looked up at sherlock who was dazzling at the doctor in shock. John had never seen this kind of gazing that Sherlock was having. Widened eyes full of what only could be called emotions. Suddenly every ounce of breath was taken from John's lung floating into the air like smoke.

"John.." Sherlock's pensive staring dwindled into a sombre look. John's gaze travelled further up Sherlock.

"I guess you've seen the broken heart Syndrome between the human parts you put in the fridge. It's much swollen than the normal one." John knew it was ranting out of stress. He averted his sight at the wet gauze in Sherlock's hand.

"John." Sherlock called his name again. If chocolate had voice, it was Sherlock with the difference that his voice was nearly to give up crying.

"I still don't know why you want to take care of me or what's the reason of enduring me. I don't want to be a burden for you, Sherlock. You don't owe me anything. I appreciate very well that it'd be an unpleasant feeling when someone doesn't have same feelings. About me, I've just told you why I'm doing this and feelings don't have logical reason. It is what it is." John said, his chest coming up and down as if he had jogged for hours. Sherlock's eyes, face and body was fixed on the Doctor as if he was a doll who just only could breath. He wasn't expecting John's sayings.

"John-" John stopped Sherlock's saying by holding his index finger up in front of the taller man. Staring into John's eyes gave the doctor a thrill, making it harder to talk. But Sherlock's was too obedient, he soon closed his mouth, his gaze traveled to John's finger.

"I just wanted to be wanted by you, needed to be needed by you. I've been waiting for you to tell me that I'm worthy of you." John sucked air into his dried lung. "John, you-" John muted Sherlock's speech by his louder tone, waving his hand in the air.

"Yes.. I'm bloody selfish, Sherlock. I wanted to strangle that girl in Paris for sleeping with you. I could break her bones while I naming each of them. I hated Jim from the bottom of my heart for being your lover. I am a jealous and selfish forty year old depressed man who can't cope sometimes. Tell me to leave your flat and set me free!" John raised his now guttural voice, his eyes were as sharp as the blade of the knife, glossy from the blocked tears in them. He had filled it with an emotion he was more at ease with - raw anger. The unmoving gaze was accompanied by deliberate hard breathing.

The anger from John's eyes showed Sherlock the man who was taught to fight and starved of the love he craved. John realized Sherlock could see the pain beneath his angry eyes by watching in his eyes staring back at John with a flame of caring, burning of his sentence while he was dazzling with warmth and out of coldness. It trembled John's heart. He has never seen these looking in Sherlock's eyes.

"But-"   
"Tell me again! Tell me you don't have any fucking feelings toward me. Stop this, just stop it now!" John yelled, his voice ragged and loud while Sherlock didn't even flinch at it.

"I'm afraid you're not allowed to leave this flat, John." Was the frail and brittle voice of the curly haired man.

John sucked a shaky breath. He didn't want to show the glassy shade of tears in his ocean eyes. He looked away as if the kitchen cabinets held his attention, but after all this time he knew that Sherlock could read John like a book, his piercing eyes on John, the doctor's breathing rate duly noted. With a gentle finger he reoriented John's face so that he held the gaze John didn't want to give him, stealing the passion from John's eyes in a way that only magnified the spark. There was no smile on his lips, only the hot intensity of his gaze that they both know was the start of the inferno to come.

Sherlock traced John's lip lightly with the tip of his finger. It was when John's eyes locked with his. He could feel the mania in every cells of his body by that electric touch. Sherlock crooked his lips into a sweet tinge smile before open it to speak.

"How can I not enjoy your company when you're ruling my mind and heart, John? How can i let you go when you turned the only man without rules into a thirsty man of your feelings? For a clever doctor like you, I'd say... you're an idiot. I've taught you how to deduce and read people but you were too unloved of yourself not to observe how I've changed myself for you." Sherlock uttered gently while he was still holding John's face.

John could feel his poor heart was pumping as if he has drunken a bottle of double espresso. "Sher.." John said before shushing by the taller man. He felt the shock register on his face before he could hide it, hardly believing if all these were reality and not one of John's sweet dreams.

"Shhh... just listen to me, doctor." Sherlock ordered, he fondled John's sandy hair softly and with his other hand he rested it on John's bare chest, exactly where his heart was beating rapidly. His warm hand was appeasing John's arrhythmia. He inhaled deeply and rested his own hands on Sherlock's.

Am I dreaming?

Sherlock watched the way John's chest was flowing up and sinking down as he was breathing deeply.

"Since I've met you, you've been there for me to stop the disintegration of my feelings, to prevent the deterioration of my mind, I am reminded that not everyone is so fortunate. That you love me like you do is a miracle I treasure every moment of every day; it would be so beautiful if everyone had love like that in their lives. You give me the strength to confront my fears, my angers, my failings and know that I am still worthy of your love. With the strength you give I can know myself with unguarded eyes and realize that, though I am not perfect, I am good enough share love with you. I'm not afraid of my emotions anymore." Sherlock's voice was steady and so John's shocking gazing.

"John Watson, you keep me right. You make me feel heavenly good and I'd be an idiot if I break your heart. I want to heal those cracks on it with my own feelings for you. I want to be wanted by you too." Sherlock said, caressing his hand on John's bare chest, exhaling softly as if a breeze was touching John's face. John deepened his smile, wrapping his both arms around the slender waist of the younger man and sniffing his sweet scent deeply, causing the taller man standing nearer to him, exactly between John's both legs.

"I love you, John Watson."

Sherlock said quietly and loud enough for the doctor to hear. John startled like a deer in the woods. He couldn't believe these words out of Sherlock's mouth. His brain stuttered for a moment and his eyes took in more light than he expected, every part of John went on pause. "You... you mean erm... you-"   
"Yes, John. I mean it." Sherlock assured, his eyes were indicating the amount of fidelity.

John swallowed, blinking some which caused the younger man frowning and biting his lips to focus on John's reaction. If John wasn't deadly astonished, it was a super funny scene to see a Mickey Mouse eyes of a doctor while the other one was staring like Peter Rabbit.

"Since when?" John whispered, looking up at Sherlock's pure tears made his high cheekbones glassy. Sherlock exhaled a cool breath before talking. "Since the day I saw you hugging Rosie in her hospital room." Sherlock meant the day that both had flight to Paris. "There I realized you're different from the others... indeed, way too different. You could enjoy best vacations full of beautiful women and men but you chose to love me, to love Rosie." Sherlock almost whispered. John's lips remained open in a gawking.

"You?" Sherlock put the gauze on John's scar and gently held it there. John didn't even blink from the sting burning of the butadiene.

"In the airplane, when I thought I've lost you. When I found you healthy in the rest room, witnessing how you cared to survive that woman made me sure you have a heart full of light and it's just too broken to show any sign." John uttered very low as Sherlock's eyes lit up with mania. 

John remembered when he was panicked, thinking he will face with the Sherlock's dead body in the rest room but seeing him again was a miracle which leapt John's heart out of his body.

John couldn't believe that the curly haired man fell in love with him sooner than him.

Sherlock's fingers gently ran up and down John's spine from his shirt, coaxing shivers out of him. Sherlock's warm breath ghosted across John's face. John shut his eyes in anticipation. He stifled a surprised gasp before hesitantly looking up at Sherlock. The swirls of emotion he saw there made him gasp.

Sherlock's eyes were gazing into John's. He stared back at Sherlock's electric cyan blue eyes that glimmered like the stars in the sky. John's eyes were like candles in night, their light a spark of desire. As a small but teasing smile crept upon Sherlock's face, goosebumps lined John's skin, not the kind than one gets in the cold, but the kind one gets when nothing else matters except right here, right now. He looked at John's lips and now John knew what he was about to do.

The next thing John knew, he yanked Sherlock to his chest and slammed his lips to Sherlock and nearly knocked all wind from his lungs. His fingers glided through Sherlock's hair as if the taller man couldn't dodge.

Sherlock's POV

As their lips crushed together, Sherlock felt like he was walking on air. It was magic, the way his lips connected with John. His mouth was so warm, the caress of his lips softer than Sherlock could have imagined as he opened his mouth with a low moan.

This was when John used the moment as he pressed his tongue to the seam of Sherlock's lips and, at his grant of access, delved inside his mouth, curious to taste him by touching his tongue on the doctor's teeth and tongue. It was a very sloppy kiss with the strong scent of old wine being exchanged in the intermingling of their billowing breaths. His arms reached up and tangled around his neck.

Sherlock's plump, velvety lips compelling against John's slimmer, warm ones, dancing around and totally bonding together. Epiphany and elation percolated into their veins and soon the entire system as John continued to press his lips more impenetrably and rougher onto Sherlock's lips. His insistent mouth was parting his trembling lips, sending wild tremors along Sherlock's nerves, inflicting sensations he had never known he was capable of feeling.

Sherlock could nearly feel the slight burn of the wine as it rolled off his tongue and seeped down his throat with every push of his tongue against John's.

It was when Sherlock realized the kiss was getting way too deeper, deeper than all the galaxies in the universe. Sherlock's vanilla lips imprinting themselves on John's like a footprint in the snow, forging a sense of exoticism and roguery.  
No one had ever kissed Sherlock like this. He had never felt this with Jim. They move together like two dancers sashaying through a melody. John's lips were ruling Sherlock, winning the battle of dominance.

Sherlock felt his body loosening and John's arms were touching his shoulders. John hummed beneath his salty tears, "I love you, Sherlock Homes." Sherlock slowly pulled away to catch a breath as he spotted his drunk eyes fixed himself. Both of their lips were red and swollen from the kiss.

"Oh my god." Sherlock muttered with a smoky voice by spotting those hungry eyes. The doctor lingered for a second before snorting as both started laughing. Sherlock loved the rhythm and that catchy voice of his lover's laughing. It was smoother than red velvet.

"Does your super impressive speech mean that i can kiss you whenever I want?" John frowned slightly. He held Sherlock's chin up, panting from the kiss.

"You can do a lot of things to me, doctor.. whenever you want." Sherlock drawled warmly along with a deep smile out of vanity. Pure and sentimental.

John reached up, pulled down Sherlock's face to his own. "Don't tease your injured doctor, Holmes." John muttered before closing his eyes as their lips came together, brushing on each other's, teeth clashing on each other's. Sherlock began to kiss him back. John pushed his tongue into Sherlock's mouth as reciprocating, hungrily tasting. Sherlock pushed back, battling for dominance as he kissed John hungrily and greedily. Of course he gave up to John, to his John.

John's hand tangled up in his hair as he brushed his lips to the corner of Sherlock's lips and cheek until it stopped on his ear. "You know if this continues few more seconds, I'd lose my control." John whispered steamily, knowing that if it goes for one more minute, then John cannot control his erection.

Sherlock chuckled lazily as he kissed  
John's forehead before dazzling into his eyes. "I'm aware that I've fallen for a horny doctor." Sherlock said. John delivered Sherlock a glare.

"Guess you finally found your pair then." John snapped back before licking his own lips which made Sherlock's eyes voraciously gazing on them.

"I deduce us the lustiest couple of England." Sherlock muttered and John snorted.

"Seriously i hope I'm not dreaming or something because this is heaven for me. Maybe it would be cheesy but you're my utopia, Sherlock." John said, interlocking his fingers with Sherlock's as he held his hand. Sherlock fondled his thumb on the back of John's hand.

"It is real, John. I'm sure even a 70% solution of cocaine cannot provide such a sweet joiner." Sherlock uttered. John brought Sherlock's hand up before he kisses it softly.

"I guess Rosie's gonna cause me a bankruptcy." John acclaimed, looking at Sherlock's puzzled eyes playfully.  
"And why's that?" Sherlock arched an eyebrow at the older man while one of his hand was still wrapped around his waist.

"She won the bet." John deepened his smile.

"I've guessed that Rosie Watson ships his dad with me." Sherlock smirked tingly. "So many people have shipped us in Paris as well." John said, his lips lit up into a bright smile. "Accurate." Sherlock's lips curled upward into a joyous grin. The way his teeth were perfectly aligned. His smile was a ray of sunshine, and John was a sunburn.

John was first to yawn as he swallowed to halt it. His lids were a bit heavier. "Look at you old man." Sherlock chuckled, John grunted funnily. "I'm bloody five years older than you." John protested in lower tune while Sherlock was buttoning John's shirt carefully and still carrying a sly smile of satisfaction. "You need to sleep, John. A lot happened today." Said Sherlock placatingly as he adjusted John's collar before John holding his arms gently.

Sherlock dazzled into John's eyes. Something was sparkling into his doctor's eyes. "I've never expected you bear with me, John... I've ignored and bothered you enough for you to hate and leave me. I guess... I'm very lucky for still having you by my side... and I don't let anyone and anything to take you from me." Sherlock slipped his hands from John's shoulders as his head was brought down to met John's lips for a small but sweet peck.

"I never can hate you and you got stuck with me surely." John deepened the curve in his lips into a Cheshire grin.

"Thanks John and don't call me Sherly ever again." Sherlock said.

John frowned in confusion for a second. "I didn't call you- wait.. you hate it right? I can use it when you need to be punished." John smirked and Sherlock growled in protest.

"I'd prefer your other way of punishment my dear Watson." Sherlock asserted and pulled him to follow him. "Wait up. Where are you taking me?" John frowned cutely.  
"My room." Sherlock blankly uttered as he rushed into his bedroom with John before he could be able to protest.

"Sherlock, Ms Hudson didn't rent the room upstairs." John acclaimed, watching Sherlock closing the door as he leaned back on it, his hands tangling each other's at his back as he looked at John after he rested his head to the door.

"That room doesn't have air conditioner nor any windows, John." Sherlock said, the low rumble of his voice was comforting as John just realized why Sherlock was trying to keep John away from the room upstairs.

"William Sherlock Scott Holmes, you lie adorably." John started chuckling. Sherlock narrowed his eyes at hearing his full name at the sandy haired man. "I wanted to keep an eye on you better and.." Sherlock lingered, tousled his hair a bit which John loved seeing his curls ruffling.

"And?" John asked flirtatiously by standing in front of the taller man who took a glance at him coyly. John had never seen Sherlock being shy.

"I got accustomed to hear your breathing while I'm sleeping." John could see the blush on Sherlock's pale face even in the dim light of the bedroom. John's heart melted at this.

"Let's go to bed then, love." John said smoothly, the baritone of his voice reverberating through Sherlock's bones, judging by his slight flinching as John slid a strong arm on his shoulder.

Sherlock's eyes got wide. "Love?" Sherlock asked dubiously. "Don't you like it, babe?" John half grinned, pulled Sherlock by his shirt to himself as he wrapped his arms around his waist and gazed up at his icy blue eyes. Sherlock's eyes were still surprised and his pupils fixed on the shorter man's.

John could feel that Sherlock was being teased and confused at the same time. He definitely didn't use to be called by these pets names. Maybe after all, his ex lover, Jim wasn't into spoiling him.

"Babe?" Sherlock asked confused.

"Do you even speak English?" John raised an eyebrow. "Being too much funny puts you in trouble, Doctor." Sherlock said, his voice was a bit huskier. "And what trouble exactly awaits me?" John asked, boring his penetrative gaze on the taller man.

Sherlock gave John one of the pick up lines he used when they were in their hotel rooms in Paris and John swallowed a laugh, God knows his ego was big enough already. Sherlock's hair was lazily ruffled from the earlier interaction in the kitchen, the brunette curls haphazardly pushed so they intertwined into his eyes which were beautiful chaos to John.

Sherlock stepped slowly to John, resting his index finger on his chest, it caused John stepping backward until he felt his legs were touching the wood of the bed. John felt as if he was hypnotized by Sherlock's hungry glaring. "Pity that you're injured." Sherlock muttered. John used the opportunity and tripped Sherlock with his leg as both fell back on the bed.

"Perhaps I should keep being injured to avoid your wild manners." John said, laying down as he started unbuckling his pants to only remain with his underwear and his shirt. "Well I'm a righteous man, John." Sherlock shrugged by getting rid of his slacks and shirt as he wrapped his nightgown around himself.

"Like I'm going to fall for it Mr hoax." John declared. Sherlock licked his lower lips intentionally to imitate John. "Lie down before I regret being nice to you, Sherlock." John threatened, eyeing at him with a hint of mischief. John crawled under the blanket following with Sherlock as they both lied down. "As you wish, Captain." Sherlock uttered with steamy voice. John grunted slightly before facing him.

Just as the first bite of cold wind creeped under John's shirt, Sherlock's hand moved around John's middle, warm and soft. In seconds John's body was moulded to Sherlock's own, sharing his body heat as easily as John shared his heart.

Sherlock's hand alighted on John's face, moving down past his collar bone.

In the darkness their cuddle felt like a little touch of heaven, warm, together, cosy. John wished he could extend the night just so he could stay close to Sherlock for longer, safe in his embrace. Sherlock's arms wrapped right around John, bring a peace John had never known before, a calming of the storms in his heart.

Sherlock's cuddle was the only medicine John needed, they were the light in the darkness, a lone star in an otherwise empty sky.

"You look like a tired hedgehog." Sherlock wrapped his arms around John's torso and hugged him close. "Somebody took my energy by acting hard to get since day one." John snapped as his arms encircled Sherlock's waist and his head lolled to John's shoulder as the doctor sniffed Sherlock's curls, enjoying the cool shampoo scent in them.

"You will be treated as a king from now on then, Jawn." he murmured with a tiny yawning. John smiled. "And what are you? My queen?" John asked playfully.

"Your wild drama queen my dear Watson." Sherlock poked John's nose and looked up as he held John close, brushing a strand of sandy silvery hair away from John's face. He gazed into John's smiley eyes as his face got softened. "Is that a thread?" John murmured. "More like a promise." Their tongues entwined in a kiss.

John grabbed the back of Sherlock's neck, growling in the kiss as Sherlock whimpered in pleasure. John chuckled between the kiss.

"Turn around." John said, his voice was deep and steamy. Sherlock kept dazzling at John's wet lips for two more seconds as he obeyed while smile didn't fade from his lips. John crawled more up behind Sherlock in bed, "Sleep well because I've a surprise for you tomorrow." he uttered softly.

"For how long do you have the aim to surprise me?" John murmured half closed eyes while his nose nuzzled into Sherlock's back, his legs intertwining with the taller man. John's arms wrapped around Sherlock's ribs he pulled him close and kissed the back of his neck. 

"Until I satisfy." Sherlock muttered, the touch of John's fingers slid down Sherlock's side, gentle at first, and then the pressure increased as the tips of his fingers danced over his ribs to massage the detective. Sherlock was sighing and whimpering joyfully as tiredness was relieving from his body. John's magical hands were draining the pains from his tired muscles. Sherlock slowly fluttered his eyes off. "Good Night, babe." Sherlock murmured as his lips crooked up in a smile when he felt John's lips brushed at the back of his neck in a small kiss. He learnt how to use those pet names finally.

The next day, when Sherlock awaked, eyes flung so wide, each iris was a perfect orb of galaxy blue. His eyes took in every ray of light. The noises outside were of a day in full swing, traffic heavy. Upon waking, Sherlock burrowed himself into the warm, soft sheets before rubbing the remainders of sleep from his eyes as his eyes suddenly locked on another human being beside him. An asleep John Watson.

Sherlock could hear his heart pumping through his vain, warming up his sleepy body by looking at the profile of his doctor.. the man he loves. A smile plastered on Sherlock's lips. John's sandy silvery hair was staying backward on the pillow except some few strands which were spread through his forehead, among his long golden lashes. Sherlock bit his lip not to giggle how cute was his up turned nose.

Sherlock carefully crawled more onto John's side and looked at him. His features were much softer in sleep, the lines that usually creased his brows replaced by the youthful appearance that matched those of others their age. He looked peaceful. Wanting nothing more than to curl up into the curve of his body.

Chest rising and falling rhythmically, slow breathing, warm under duvet, slow eye movement, probably dreaming.

Inching his nose a little nearer to John's neck, Sherlock breathed in his scent. He could recognise the brand of cologne he used – one of his favourites – intermingling with the outlandish aroma of charcoal flames and cinnamon and John's own enchanting scent.

"Done with studying my beauties?" Suddenly said a murmuring husky voice which went straight to Sherlock's crotch. "Nah, you've occupied lots of rooms in my mind palace, doctor." Sherlock whispered, smiling at John's wild ocean blue eyes.

"Endeavouring to rent your whole mind palace." Murmured John, rolling himself softly to face Sherlock.

"I believe it's sold out." Sherlock whispered back, brushing his long fingers gently through John's strands before massaging his head, causing the older man humming in satisfaction.

"Who is its lucky possessor then?" John asked flirtatiously which melted Sherlock like an ice cream on a warm porcelain bowl, like he belonged next to John.

"A lazy hedgehog next to me on bed- ahhh.. Jawwn.." Sherlock's saying got caught by John.

Sherlock felt a hot breath on his neck, then the tender brush of lips. Burning as they made contact with his neck. John's moist, plump lips imprinted on his neck. It was way too better than his wet dreams with John.

"So i master your mind palace, ha?"  
John's hand ran through his dark curls, as John's kisses became harder and more urgent. Another hand slid around Sherlock's waist, and pulled him close to his divined scented body. Sherlock was amazed at how one touch of John's lips could hitch his breath.

Sherlock smirked before moving his finger, and pressing his hand against John's cheek, giving himself more support to push towards him, and licking their lips. John's lips were firm against his, but the kiss remained soft, gentle, slow and lazy with closed eyes, exploring each other's mouth with their tongues tangling to each other.

"Sort of" Sherlock admitted. Unexpectedly, John's hand drifted to his hip. It settled there and pulled him closer. Sherlock inhaled sharply. He was against John's robust and warm chest, chiselled to perfection.

"And you have fucked my brain up since day one, Mr cheekbone." John whispered hotly before moving his lips on Sherlock's cupid bow. Sherlock exhaled through his nose, not wanting to let go. His entire body had been taken over by the overwhelming feeling of relief, combined with eccentric desire and lust.

John moved his hand to the back of his head, his fingers tangling in his hair, lightly pulling Sherlock into himself , adding more pressure to their lips, deepening the kiss.

"But I will reciprocate it with something more, Sherlock." John muttered among their make outs, causing Sherlock smiling into his kisses, feeling the radiation of hotness in his whole system.

When they broke apart for air, John rested his forehead against his and gathered some much needed oxygen. His smirk told sherlock everything and Sherlock smiled back, sinking into his hold.

The sound of the door knocking brought both of them out of their steamy mood as John sighed faintly and Sherlock grunted, breaking their gazes, Sherlock sat up, dragged his feet off the bed, and rubbed his knuckles onto his eyes before stretching his arms above his head and yawn while watching his legs dangle above the off-white polyester carpet. He heard the door knocking once more.

"SHUT UP!" Sherlock yelled annoyingly, caused John snorting as he finally bursted into laugh behind him.

"Do you want me to get the door?" John asked and Sherlock waved his hand before standing on his feet. "It's my arch enemy. I'll get it." Sherlock uttered before standing. John blinked some in confusion. Arch enemy?  
"How could you even know?" John frowned in confusion while a big smile was still upon his lips.

"Obvious, my doctor. People knock differently." Sherlock ruffled his hair and fastened his night gown before a mischievous smirk dancing on his lips.

John sat on the bed, adjusting his shirt as he stared back. (The bloody door was getting knocked still.) "you Maleficent with your high cheekbones." John licked his lips, produced more dark desires in Sherlock's body. "Don't do that, doc." Sherlock said more like begging as he left the room to get the door, hearing John's chuckling in triumph.

John's POV

The sound of loud complaining and rumbling filled the whole flat. John dressed up in his jumper and khaki pants from his sack as he rushed into the living room, watching a man a bit taller than Sherlock was almost grappling or better say wrestling to take an umbrella. John's mouth got opened in gape. He got pissed, witnessing someone just in Sherlock's house was giving him trouble.

"Please Stop this now!" John acclaimed with a gravelly voice, standing between the taller men.

"The fight between us won't end with a plain reprimand, Doctor Watson." The taller man asserted before sending a death glare at Sherlock which was trolling the umbrella in his right hand.

John squeezed his eyes within his eyebrows drawing together. "What? Who the hell are you even? Sherlock lemme kick his ass out of here." John retorted angrily. "I wish I could but then mom gets upset with me." Sherlock replied, glaring sternly at the taller man in front of him who was adjusting his suit. "For goodness sake! I run a position in government and now a soldier fellow wants to kick me out!" He said with a hint of smirk on his thin lips.

"He's the government actually." Sherlock muttered.

John gawked with lifted brows. "Sorry.. who's the mom? Sherlock, what are you talking about?" John asked absentmindedly. "Our mother, Mycroft's my older brother." Sherlock threw the umbrella to the taller man before looking at John. "Jeez.. he is the one who.. oh god... you're Mycroft Holmes, then." John brushed his fingers to his hair before a smile curving his mouth.

"By the way, I'm a doctor, used to commanding soldiers as their captain and army surgeon, Mr Holmes, the rude one." John uttered, arching a single brow with his permanent tinge smirking, which tilted Sherlock's lips into smile. "Now I could understand why my stoned hearted brother fell in love with you, doctor Watson." Mycroft affirmed before holding his umbrella head towards Sherlock. "I guess I should leave you two together. Your request is done by the way, Sherlock." He said before looking at John. "Take care of him please, doctor." Mycroft said, his voice lower and his eyes kinder before receiving the nodding from John. "I do." John said, watching as he exited the 221b.

"Why couldn't I guess he was your brother?" John almost murmured. Sherlock hummed before pulling John to himself, dazzling at him. "Because you're my adorable idiot." He whispered and John grunted. "Don't worry. Smart people can be idiot too." He smiled brightly and with that, John leaned Sherlock down into a soft kiss. "What was your request from him?" John asked against Sherlock's lips. The taller man parted their kiss and he dazzled into John's deep blue eyes.

"Put on your tux. We are going out tonight." Sherlock declared and walked past to the kitchen before letting John to open his mouth and ask more questions.

*******************************

It was 7pm and John was waiting in his Bentley for Sherlock to join him. Sherlock was wearing the tux that John had bought him. He was excited to tell him the big surprise. Indeed Sherlock was afraid if John won't agree with it. But after all, Sherlock was too serious with his choice. He had decided to stop worrying and revealing his surprise for his doctor.

When Sherlock got in front the passenger side, his nostrils got replete by John's scent and his cologne as if the doctor has been spending hours in it. That smell was too provocative.

"Sorry for waiting too long." Sherlock murmured coolly, denied on fastening his belt. "Don't worry, I was checking on Rosie through some calls." John assured fondly, causing Sherlock getting faster heart beats. He pondered about later, when he was going to indicate the reason he asked John out.

"Where to, Mr Holmes?" John asked playfully with a hint of flirting. A tinge smile plastered on Sherlock's lips. "It's a restaurant out of town." He replied with a rich voice. "Oh, right.." John paused, he lingered, Sherlock was watching him from the car mirror. The silvery haired man was deducing something in his mind which was bringing Sherlock to smile. "Don't worry, I won't rape you in the car." He joked and John gave him a look. "Funny." John snorted.

Sherlock squirmed in his seat, feeling the familiar tingles of arousal curling on his crotch. The smell of leather seats, John's cologne and his divine scent all over the car had made him feeling like that. But he knew it wasn't the time. He just wanted to tell John his surprise, to the attractive man next to him.

Once they were fully settled and John entered the exact address into Waze on his phone, his hands stroked the wheel and the car roared to life and with it, Sherlock could imagine those hands could do magic to him. The night was still young. None of them knew what expected them.

"May I ask why did you choose such a far place, Mr clandestine?" John murmured softly. Sherlock's lips crooked up into a tinge smile. "Patience, my doctor, patience." Sherlock winked from the car mirror which John was gazing at Sherlock from there. "As your wish, your majesty." John coaxed playfully.

Sherlock pulled the window up and let as the mingle of the scents filling his lung. He lighted a cigarette up.  
The rich benignant cigar smoke eddied coolly down his throat; he puffed it out in rings which breasted the air bravely for a moment; blue, circular.

The smell of cigarette smoke corrupted the smell of new car, but no smell beat the leather of the seats. It was around them like a constrictive hug, clinging to his lung with every breath.

Furtively he spotted John's profile. Watching as his eyes fluttered in pleasure, his chest heaving a bit, savouring the clouds of nicotine even though he was against smoking. Sherlock knew John's weakness.

"Turn it off, Sherlock." John ordered, his voice danced over Sherlock's eardrum. He could listen to it all day. It was a voice to sink in as it wrapped Sherlock up. Yet, vibrating with power and command. It was a voice with authority while it had the softness and kindness.

"It's vital for me." Sherlock drawled each word lazily. "How so?" John's question came along to Sherlock's asserting.

"it induces a natural transmitter in my nerves so everything gets faster, that's the marvel." Sherlock retorted with a rich tune. "Then why did you turn the window up? You aim to share your marvel with me, Mr chimney?" John replied with a silky voice, glanced at Sherlock, showing his wild dark ocean eyes peering into Sherlock's ones.

"It suits your current obstinate questions and your left foot fidgeting. Plus, to a man like you, this could work as ecstasy." Sherlock said, John licked his lower lip again as if Sherlock's claiming was vanilla ice cream.

"The mother of ecstasy is already sitting next to me." John loosened his tie a bit while his left hand was resting on the steering. Left handers were always a new sexy to Sherlock's belief. Especially when it comes to be John Hamish Watson. Few more pokes and Sherlock decided to remain obedient as he turned it off and let John enjoy the nicotine furtively.

John connected the Bluetooth of the car to his phone and quickly found a playlist for the occasion. Slow, deep beats shook the car, biting every note with a sharp end. No words came from the speakers, but Sherlock felt the dirty and sensual tone on his bones.

"Seems like you get used to stick in traffic, John. Do you always drive alone?" Sherlock asked, he was watching the front as eyes could see there were nothing but cars. "Yes indeed. I don't have friends except Molly and Mike which they are not really outgoing. So I'm alone most of the times." John answered, his eyes were locked on the busy road ahead.

"What a similarity, doctor." Sherlock commented. The way John's lips lifted upward. The way his one dimple crinkles. The way his teeth were perfectly aligned. The warm glow his happiness gave. John's smile was a ray of sunshine, and Sherlock was a sunburn in the heart of the night.

John hummed in reply then.  
Humming should be a soothing sound, dulcet tones creating a wordless melody which it was exactly what escaped out of John's mouth, appeasing the taller man next to him.

"Random girls?" Suddenly escaped out of Sherlock's mouth. John glanced back at Sherlock in confusion. "What about it?" He asked low tuned.   
"Have you picked up some of them before getting home?"

Sherlock asked before he sneaked a glance at John. He paused, noticing the power behind those breath-taking eyes. The power that was as reckless as a tornado. His eyes flashed. For a moment Sherlock's eyes locked in his sinful magnetic, seeming as careless as hell.

John's eyes twinkled with a sharp gleam like that of a tiger staking his prey. His gaze was both of a wise professor and a bloodthirsty murderer, it called for respect and promised severe dirty desires. The dark space colour swirled into an Atlantic blue as he was still staring at the road. He smiled and spots of gold from the reflection of car lights danced in his irises and grew to swallow the blue.

Sherlock's breath was ripped from his lungs, Noticing that the driver sensed his probing stare as he whipped his face to him. His smile sprinkled with a sexy maleficence vibe.

"Many girls have gotten into this car, but none of them succeeded to come home with me." John gave him a brighter smile that just seemed so genuinely sweet with just the right touch of love that unexpected warmth rushed through Sherlock. "I've told you many times. I wanted something more and finally I earned it." Before John's speech got to end, Sherlock's hand glided down John's arm, folded over his hand. Sherlock's fingers laced with huis. He felt the fast thud of the doctor's heart through this single touch.

"I want to be always worthy of being in this journey with you, John and being that 'something more' to you." Sherlock's lips lifted upward, showing his white aliened teeth warmly. John leaned and kissed his hand softly. "It's my honour." John uttered with coax. Sherlock chuckled gently. "You with your tongue." He commented before John grinning back to the road.

Conversation flowed easily as John drove around the city, taking turns in random corners and never stopping on a red light—no matter the map protested which made Sherlock realizing how rebellious is his doctor. His inner kid was still alive. John was like Sherlock. He knew every street better than his own soul.

They drove for another hour until John spotted Sherlock's steeple but the man was tricking him because Sherlock wanted to take a nap without John figuring out that he was tired. After all it was his suggestion and he didn't want to give up on his mistake for choosing today for driving. The traffic was terrible and roads were all enduring the heavy drizzling. John smirked and suddenly turned the steering to the right, causing the dark haired man tilting to him as his icy blue eyes got wide.

"JAWN WHAT THE FUCK!" Sherlock held John's right shoulder, he was gasping until he found John was bursting into laugh.

"God, your face." John said hardly between his laughing.

The laugh came from John like a newly sprung leak - timid at first, stopping and starting. He wasn't done yet though. From deep inside his chest came a great shaking motion and his face muscles grew tight. Sherlock folded his arms, eyebrows arched, waiting. Sherlock wanted to stay straight faced, reserving his pissed off face. After all John was laughing at him not with him. But before Sherlock could stop himself, his poker straight mouth twitched upwards and he started chuckling.

"You cock." Sherlock said among his laughing. John tightened his eyes. "Well, you are what you eat." John acclaimed. Sherlock froze for a second before his gloating at John made the doctor assume what he had just uttered.

"Have you ever done it?" Sherlock asked quietly. John blinked some. His gaze was divulging the amount of embarrassment in his stormy blue eyes. He shook his head faintly. Sherlock raised a single brow, waiting for a decent answer.

"Let's say, not yet." John said, his breathing in a shallow rhythm. Sherlock breathed out, his body went off pause-mode, energy soared through him. He felt his body was on fire. Just a single sentence of his doctor could explode his mind while thousands of people couldn't bring him into pleasure. The voodoo of John was something undeniable.

"Are you suggesting to blow me in your fancy car between myriad of cars and this stormy weather, John?" Sherlock asked with rapid speed which caused the doctor snorting.

John choked out a laugh. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, feeling it biting into the sweaty palm of his hands.

"I love the way you imagined it but if you deduce this bloody traffic, we have way too more time than just committing such a brief action. Plus, creativity, my dear Holmes. Bed is boring." John grinned before he focused on the road which no cars could move even a centimetre.

"I made many efforts to be creative, remember? Living room, bathroom, hotel room, fitting room, even your office." Sherlock said, laying his head back at the seat. John snorted, remembering Sherlock's endeavouring to get into his pants in every single location.

"But I'm not hard to get right now, Sherlock. Everything has changed. If we attempt to do anything now, it won't be counted as just fucking." John uttered with a low pitched tone. He looked at Sherlock's profile. "You don't have any idea how badly I wanted to touch you during the past month. It was torturous. But I was afraid if you'd leave me afterwards." John added softly.

"During the past month my lust turned into love. John.. there were many times that something triggered me to touch you, to sleep with you and they all caused because of my love for you and nothing else." Sherlock said before looking back at John, finding him gazing back as if he was a doll with immobile eyes. "You.. you mean you didn't want to leave me once we had sex?" John stuttered.

Sherlock's blood ran cold as he heard him. How he could even leave John? The doctor believed Sherlock. The taller man shook his head slightly. "Those three days after our trip, I just kept myself alive by eating bunch of sleeping pills and make myself unconscious not to feel the amount of agony... the agony of being far from you, John." Sherlock murmured, his eyes carrying glassy stuck tears while he could feel John's mind sent reeling backwards as if he was not in this world.

"Why.. why didn't you call me?" John's silvery tears were worse than a tantrum or screaming. His eyes welled up with sadness. They showed his soul, aged by years of experiencing woe. The silence of his weeping was eerie, like he had been forced to learn how to do this. What would it take to mend a soul as damaged as that?

"I thought I didn't deserve your love. All I tried was make you hate me but It didn't work. When you hugged me the last time. I just realized It won't take long for me to live in this den I made for myself. I have never been very good at talking. Whenever I try to express the emotions whirling in my soul, my throat tightens blocking me from saying anything to you. But I confessed my feelings for you in my dreams.. in my mind palace.. I even built a life with you.. where me, you and R-"

Sherlock felt the inability of continuing his sentence when he felt John slowly grasped his hand, lacing their fingers in a way that made his heart beat faster.

Sherlock took in a sharp breath and glanced over at him, his cheeks scarlet red of the passion which was radiating through him.

A smile nervously crossed his lips, because Sherlock didn't still get used to this marvellous man. Everything about John was electrifying his nerves.

John's breath was on his lips, and Sherlock quivered a bit at the odd sensation. The only light was cars back lights which were illuminating John's eyes.

Without another moment to spare Sherlock realized that John was pressing his lips to his. Usually he had a tendency to keep his eyes a little bit open, but now they were fully closed. He was concentrating on the kiss, and Sherlock assumed that his eyes were wide open. Slowly he closed them and hid away his electric and Sapphire orbs beneath pale eyelids and dark eyelashes. John's lips were oddly soft in this kiss, and it stayed slow and sweet.

"You value my whole life. I want to be worthy of you.. prove you how deeply you reign my heart. After all, we both deserve each other." The scent of hazelnut latte came along with the honeyed voice of John, which was like booze, befuddling Sherlock's brain.

Sherlock's lips twisted into a smile, searching though John's eyes. "You bought my mind palace. Serves your right to surrender your heart to me, doctor." Sherlock's voice said. It made John averting his gaze into something darker.

His hand gently moved over to Sherlock's hip, and he laid it there, rubbing the slightly exposed skin there. It was not totally sexual, but loving, comforting. It was blissful, and Sherlock balanced his weight on one arm, his other hand pressing against John's chest. But not hard, he didn't want John to think he was pressing him back.

the hammering of raindrops on the window sounding more like a round of applause for their love.

Sherlock hesitantly looked up at John. The swirls of emotion he saw there made him gasp. Lust and desire. However, before he could ponder about it further, this time Sherlock yanked him to himself and covered John's warm mouth with his in a hungry kiss. As their lips crushed together, Sherlock felt like he was walking on air. It was magic, the way doctor's lips connected with his.

This kiss was slow and passionate though, or he'd probably grip John's shirt and reel him in closer. The tiny noises, breathings, low panting and nuanced moaning made Sherlock crazy. He wanted John and the other man had the total consent to turn the boring traffic into something darkly pleasurable for the taller man.

Sherlock heard John's breathing turning deeper. He saw that John let his hands touch gently, slowly moving them up to his waist and then pausing for the younger man's reaction. Sherlock turned, locking his cyan eyes on his, pale blue into deepest blue. His left hand raised to his hair, tucking the silvery wisps behind his ear.

"My soul and body are ready to have you." Sherlock whispered with a gravelly silky voice in a quiet tone.

With a smooth movement that surprised even himself, John dragged Sherlock closer. The shorter man's inner animal was revealing the amount of aerosol he had.

It was when a knock on the door made Sherlock looking at the window, spotting a blurry picture of a man among the vapored glass. "John.." Sherlock whispered into John's ear while he was madly horny not to be able to stop. "It can wait." John's hoarse tone drawled, burying his fingers on Sherlock's hair, sniffing his scent loudly. The man knocked louder this time. Sherlock cupped John's face this time before watching his horny eyes. "Later, babe... later." Sherlock said, calling John with pet names for the first time caused the doctor licking his lower lip which made Sherlock literally regretting for the stop.

"I hope there would be a logical reason for interrupting this." John muttered half pissed and half flirtatiously before adjusting his ruffled hair and tie before taking the window lower.

"Yes?" John spoke, a man at his early middle age like John bended his head while his bushy brows were snapped together, seeming how giant he was furious.

"My wife and my son are sitting next to your bloody car and we have to watch you nasty faggots making out disgustingly! Stop this shit or you two creeps will see the consequences." Came out from the fellow's mouth. His voice was raspy, his greasy hair and the unpleasant scent of him got added to make John clenching his hands more on the steering. Sherlock could feel John was struggling with his anger.

his eyes.

how that fire burnt inside of those eyes into ash.

Those words stung only fueling the fire that burned inside of Sherlock. Every violated phrase was like gasoline to it, heart breaking.

John's fists began to clench even more and his jaw rooted.

"If you won't get lost in next three seconds, I'm gonna snap you in two and believe me, I'm unstable enough to do that." John talked with gritted teeth. His death glaring was obvious from the car mirror to Sherlock. It sent shiver down to Sherlock's spine.

The man opened the door before yelling. "You dwarf are bragging to me? I can take the shit out of you!" The man's harshly voice made other cars turning their cars off to listen.

Stupid people.

John attempted to get off but got pulled by Sherlock. His hand was wrapped around his arm, it made John averting his gaze back to Sherlock. "Don't let these fools affect you, John." Sherlock whispered, he could feel John's hot breath hitting his face. "Unfortunately your boyfriend is a war veteran, not a civilian. Sit here and watch." John said, he put a quick kiss on Sherlock's cheek before getting off of the car.

Guess now I know exactly why I'm in love with you, hedgehog.

Sherlock's lips tilted up in a satisfying smirk. No one should make fun of a courageous army captain.

John laid back to his car, crossing his arms, looking daggers at the creepy man. "Sadly you played with the devil, you douchebag and lemme tell you, when you play with lion's tail, you will be badly fucked up, brother." John smirked, suddenly his fist was slamming into his face.

Blood pooled in his mouth, Sherlock found himself gaping, his eyes vastly wide.

The man with his bloody mouth stepped back, evading the next kick. "Is that all you got?" He crowed, smirking infuriatingly at John.

Sherlock's blood hummed in his veins as determination and anger took over. He didn't notice how deep he was biting his lower lip as the irony taste of blood made him figure out his anger.

A sudden gush of yell jolted, Sherlock's eyes darted at the man. His stomach ached, his arms lost tension and his legs began to weaken. John was kicking the man on the ground as if he was a piece of garbage. Few strands of hair were scattering into his forehead, he looked like a mad man. Sherlock rushed out of the car, he wrapped his arms around John from the behind.

"John.. John... it's okay.. calm down please." Sherlock crooned softly into his ear before loosening his embrace. John was gasping, he brushed his hair backward and looked down at the pathetic rude man on the ground which was crawling to get as far as he could from John.

"I'm sorry.. I didn't know why I lost my control." John shook his head repeatedly, he avoided Sherlock's compassionate gaze. "Look at me, John.. please." He uttered even an octave lower, brushing his fingers with John's hand. It made the older man finally looking up into Sherlock's eyes with soothing look.

"Now you should hate me." John murmured, Sherlock felt the ache in his heart. John was thinking if Sherlock loathed him for his action. "Oh, John... Hating you for punching an asshole? You don't have any idea what have I done in my life otherwise you wouldn't feel shamed by hurting a useless creature. Shut up and get in the car before you find the urge to kill that doofus." Sherlock declared with a fruity voice, spotting John's snoring as he got in the car.

"And you, better keep your eyes on your wife because she is cheating on you with two other men and your kid loathes you utterly." He said rapidly as the man glanced back with gape and earned Sherlock's smirk.

After he slipped in the car, Sherlock saw the man from the right side car mirror also getting in his car while badgering something to his wife.

"Didn't know you crown with savage, Doctor." Sherlock said with a slyly smirk after almost thirty seconds sticking in a dead silence. John was still rubbing the back of his knuckles from the bashing. He took a glance over at the speaking man before spit it out.

"You better distinguish me something between ally and enemy for your own's sake." John murmured with charm and talisman. Sherlock smiled smugly before swinging his head around to look at the silvery haired man.

"And when will you show me your wicked manner, Mr evil?" Sherlock leered his azure eyes into John's dark stormy ones. "Already." It was what erupted out of John's honeyed smoky tone.

Tentatively, Sherlock met John's lips, blinking rapidly, reddening in which he was incapable of comprehending. "Does your batmoblie have dark car window option?" Sherlock said as if he was petrified under John's penetrative gaze, his lips quivered, his breathing hastened, the intense rhythm of his heartbeat underwent an irregular count, hammering quicker than the lightening bolt as John's hand slithered toward Sherlock's body, searching smoothly for the seam of his coat to reach his shirt.

With a touch of a button, the windows went dark and blurry. Thanks to John's luxurious assets.

He glided his hand smoothly under the hem of Sherlock's shirt, resting his hand upper, where the brunette haired man was almost gasping for air. It appeased him as soon as John added a fondly smile to his ingratiating touch.

"Are you sure you want this?" John asked, as soft as silk. Sherlock closed and opened his eyes slowly before smiling consented.

He couldn't be more sure about that. Whenever he heard of the term 'making love' he got used to laugh over it. But John's entering to his life had changed many things for Sherlock. Sometimes verbal abilities were stymied to express the amount of love he had for the shorter man in front of him and now Sherlock wanted to feel John, uniting all his soul and body to prove him how badly he was craving for this man.

He parted his lips and moaned slightly when John's tongue licked the insides of his mouth. Without hesitation, Sherlock cupped John's erection through his trousers and smiled when he let a filthy sound and bucked into his hand.

Sherlock pressed his hand harder against John's cock, feeling it hot and big under his palm. John's eyes flickered closed, his mouth falling open in a muted groan.  
"You really liked that, don't you, John?"

"I want to." John's hand flew to Sherlock's thigh, his voice raspier than seconds ago. "Fuck you." He finished his sentence.

"Yeah?" One look into John's lustful lavender gaze was enough to make any remaining resolve crumble. It was when John abruptly grasped Sherlock's coat, pressing their lips together before Sherlock could complain and sandwiching him between his body and the seat.

"Show me how much you want me," Sherlock whispered low against John's mouth.

John kissed him back frantically and more sloppily than normal. "I want to take those clothes off of you, now." John whispered hoarsely.  
"go on, doctor, examine me. Hardly." Sherlock drawled his words.  
"With pleasure." his voice, dripping with lust was enough to send Sherlock's body into overdrive, as soon as the words left John's lips Sherlock wanted him just as badly as John wanted him.

Greedily John felt around until he found the buttons and started undoing Sherlock's suit, he was controlling himself just barely enough so that he didn't rip it off of Sherlock. Manoeuvring cautiously, he slid it down, groaning happily when John saw Sherlock's shirt was too tight, showing each curve and muscles underneath.

John leaned over his seat to breathe against Sherlock's neck, breathing warm and fuzzy, allowing goosebumps to rise over Sherlock's pale skin. he was taunting him, fingers gripping his thigh and lips kissing the soft skin on his neck.

"Ahhh Jawn, how do you know I have amomaxia?" Sherlock whispered with rich tone. "Is it a PTSD?" John grinned against Sherlock's skin as he earned the curly haired man's growling. "fetish for car sex"  
"I'm fetish to fuck you in every fucking place." John whined inwardly when Sherlock's fingers dig into John's silvery wisps of hair. "Me too, Jawn. Me too." He whispered with desire.

Soon Sherlock was gotten rid of any attire on his body, his long dick was staying upward, too hard and feeling the breezy weather. John slid his hand on his chest, stoping at his left nips. He buried his head into Sherlock's neck once again and started sucking him hard. Probably giving Sherlock bunch of love bites and bruises which Sherlock didn't really mind. His tongue slid until his right nips, circling there and sucked it hard which Sherlock pulled his hair deeper this time. "Fuck." He said hoarse.

"I want you to sit in my lap, Sherlock." John said, giving Sherlock a little squeeze on his left nips. "Facing forward. That sounds good?" He smirked. "That's perfect, doctor." Sherlock grinned, showing his aligned white teeth. John got his pants and brief down after he unbuckled his belt, his shirt was unbuttoned till down but still covering his arms and shoulders, their bow ties were on the back seat. Sherlock loved John's thick and uncut cock.

He couldn't wait to ride it. Sherlock straddled John's lap, his back touching the steering, while his hands were resting on his doctor's broad shoulders.  
"You're very Beautiful, Sherlock." John whispered, stroking Sherlock's left cheek. Sherlock closed his eyes and kissed John's hand after holding it from his face.

John held Sherlock's back and pulled him nearer, their noses grazing, as they began to kiss.  
A moan escaped out of his doctor. Sherlock needed this. He needed the adrenaline of racing like a gasoline fire in his veins.

Sherlock felt John's strong fingers rubbing against the head of his silken, supple and pinky cock while his tongue was busy, tasting Sherlock's jaw. Sherlock's hands wandered, slow and indulgent, coming up to palm John's robust chest, avoiding to touch his wounds. "John?" Sherlock whispered among his panting. "I'm okay." John met Sherlock's worried gaze and smiled. He held the back of John's neck and started rubbing his ass on John's stiff shaft.

"Fuck" John let out a louder moan, causing his fingers clenching around Sherlock's length suddenly, precum sliding John's hand. "John, please prepare me." he pleaded under his breath and closed his eyes. His lips parted uncontrollably, as if it wasn't him doing that, he made a single thrust into John's fist.

"Do you mind if I use your mouth as lube?" John delivered a devilish smirk while his third finger brushed Sherlock's lips. "Not at all." He opened his mouth eagerly and started sucking his finger. John was watching Sherlock sucking it voraciously while his other hand was stroking his cock in a steady rhythm. John was enjoying fucking Sherlock's mouth with his finger.

Both were groaning in impatience, their erection throbbing. John took his finger out, He spread Sherlock's ass cheeks as he inserted his wet finger into his hole.

Before Sherlock relaxing into the touch of John's finger, slick and curling inside of him within just a few seconds, stretching and working at his hole. Sherlock could tell John loved this, his eyes glancing over the naked man on his lap, breathless moans leaving his mouth, adding more fingers and scissoring his hole.

Sherlock was a shaking mess, only a few minutes into being fingered. he couldn't help but grip onto John's neck, fingers dragging over the soft skin on his nape every time John's string fingers curled inside, brushing his prostate and making him whining.

"John." Sherlock whispered into his ear, feeling John's fingers getting out of his hole and brushing over his spine, he sucked Sherlock's earlobe. "Yes, babe." John's honeyed voice danced over his ear. "Fuck me, please." Sherlock whispered, brushing his plum lips on John's ear, sending thrills into his body and making him crazier.

John leaned and grabbed a condom from the dashboard and teared it off with his teeth. "Put it on me." He said, more like a soft command. Sherlock's lips crooked into a mischievous smile as he put it on John while teasing him by pumping his shaft few times, feeling how heavy John's balls were.

John fluttered his eyes open, he spat on his cock, and slicked his own dick with his hand, pushing it against Sherlock's desperate hole, teasing it for a few seconds with no remorse. Sherlock picked John's chin up and dazzled horny-ly into his indigo blue eyes. "You want me to beg you more?" He asked. John studied his face. "I want to hear your begging.. constantly." John's husky voice replied.

Sherlock swallowed, their chests heaving against each other. He lingered, clenching his hand on John's throat, as if he wanted to choke him. John's pensive gaze was succumbing the arrogant man. "Please fuck me, John. I need to ride you.. deep and hard." His silky steamy voice made John going mad.

Sherlock's back arching back when he felt the tip of John's dick slid into him, slow and cunning. "Fuck, you're very tight." John's low voice asserted. "Low sexual interaction has made me like this." Sherlock whispered, voice croaky and curt.

"I'm very lucky then." John whispered, pushing his hips forward and until his entire shaft went deep into Sherlock's warm hole, a low growl escaping John's lips at the feeling of Sherlock's muscle clenching around his hard cock, clenching and withering around his dick.

John moved slow, pulling his dick out only to push it back in sharp. This time Sherlock wrapped his hands around John's throat in a smoother clench as he started riding him lazily. The car windows were repleted with steam, the smell of sex was filling the car and their moaning were spreading instead of the music.

"Oh, John. You make me feel so good." voice whining and shaking, John snapped, pulling his hips back only to thrust into Sherlock with no demeanour, nothing to stop him.  
Sherlock could feel the car moving with them, the sound of the leather seats squelching and indenting with every hard, pleasureful thrust. Sherlock loved moaning, he loved whining and spluttering within John's hold, and he loved the echo the expensive car exuded every time he opened his mouth to moan John's name. He had never experienced this much of enjoying with others.

Sherlock's body didn't know how to respond to this feeling. his prostate was processing the dick he had in his ass. Getting goosebumps from the feeling of John's tongue sucking his clavicle.  
"Fuck Jawn." Sherlock whined, voice barely understandable. his right hand was against the window, sliding down as his long and slender fingers traced on the vapored window while his left hand was slipping through John's hair, gripping it with his fists as John started to call Sherlock's name louder.

"if you keep this up i'll cum everywhere." Sherlock said, riding John's cock faster and harder, John's tip slamming hard against his prostate while his dick was rubbing against John's stomach.

"Cum on me, Sherlock." John's voice cracked when he started gripping Sherlock's cock hard and pumping it fast while he was thrusting him in and out wildly.

Few more push and pull until Sherlock's legs slid on the leather as he came, white liquid pouring on John's chest, stomach and hand, his hole clenching and unclenching around John's dick. Sherlock moaned John's name loud, causing the older man coming inside his condom in Sherlock's ass. "Oh my god." John groaned. He yanked Sherlock into a deep kiss. Biting his cupid bow and licking his teeth off while their panting was pitching through their mouths.

The lack of breath was the only reason that made them apart to suck air into their lung. John bit his lips and gazed at Sherlock's sweaty face and his ruffled hair. "Still want us to get to the restaurant like this?" John grinned, Sherlock gave up and chuckled smoothly.

"We don't need to." Sherlock murmured softly. John tightened his eyes in question.  
"Your surprise is on the back seat." Sherlock drawled with rich and deep tune, halting John from tilting his head and looking back, he held his chin. "First, put your trousers on, Watson." Sherlock smiled. John brushed his fingers into Sherlock's front curls and tucked them back to see his lover's eyes better.

"I hope not to die in this car of the heart attacks every single moment to give me." He murmured flirtatiously before Sherlock moving to his own seat and both attempting to clean themselves.

"Don't worry, I know how to give you CPR." Sherlock winked from the car mirror and with that when both dressed up, John leaned and looked back and spotted Sherlock's surprise.


	12. Chapter 12

John's POV

John almost read the letter four times, his eyes and mouth were frozen wide open in an expression of stunned surprise, and although he was staring straight into the letter. "Jesus... Sherlock, am I reading this correctly? You... you want to take Rosie's custody with me?" John's cracked voice came out as if his heart leaped out of his chest. feeling the excitement radiating out from him stronger than a hundred watt bulb. "As far as I know you can read English so don't ask me silly questions." Sherlock blurted out with a slight smile while brushing his ruffled hair back to his coifed groomed one from the car mirror, fixing his shirt.

John swallowed. "Oh my god." He looked up at the brunette hair man who was arching back an eyebrow with his crooked up pursed lips. "But how did you do that?" John asked, his wide pupils had made his ocean blue eyes in jet black.

"You know my methods." Sherlock smirked lightly. John cocked his head and grinned while he was waiting for more details. Sherlock rolled his eyes dramatically and grinned faintly. "Mycroft proved the attorney that I had tandem relationship with Rosie. Nevertheless, the unfitness of her actual parents was obvious. He submitted witnesses and qualified me financially, physically and mentally to take her guardianship with you." He uttered fast yet calming.

John's hurricane of emotions swirling into his body caused his eyes shimmered in tears as he held Sherlock's hand and interlocked their fingers right on his lap before looking into his eyes and it was when the tears slipped down on his face. "Are you really sure about this?" John whispered, a slender long finger found its way to wipe those tears out of the doctor's face before leaning and kissing his cheek sweetly. "I've never been this sure about my life. I want to live with you and Rosie like a family." Sherlock's velvety voice admitted. John didn't waste any time as he pulled him into his embrace for a tight hug.

John bathed in his warmth. Sherlock pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around John. His embrace was warm, and his big, strong arms seemed very protective. The world around John melted away as he squeezed him back, not wanting the moment to end.

"I love you very much, Sherlock." John whispered into his ear, his fingers caressing the back whisks softly before hearing Sherlock's sweet humming. "I love you very much, John." His rich low toned voice murmured back. 

***********************************

Sherlock's POV 

"What the hell's a poptart?" Sherlock asked as they cruised up and down the grocery aisles of their local supermarket, a muffled but still audible 'hmmmm' came from behind John as Sherlock grabbed a bunch of pop tarts and dropped them into their cart. John chuckled.

"They're like, little cakes that you have for breakfast. You can warm them up in the toaster and everything." John was checking the expire date of gelatin pack before dropping it into the cart he wondered if he should buy any other sugary products, it was when Sherlock heaved a full 12 pack of ginger nut biscuits onto the bottom of the shopping cart.

John shook his head and looked at Sherlock. "You're gonna get diabetes very soon, Sherlock." John asserted before smiling at his boyfriend sweetly.

"I don't care." Sherlock muttered in a childlike manner as he rolled his eyes before grabbing frozen apple pie and John stood on his toes and leaned as he kissed Sherlock's cheek. "You enjoy being stubborn, ha?" He whispered and Sherlock looked at John with the corner of his eyes before his lips curled up into a tinge smile and held his chin. "Isn't it the reason you love me, doctor?" His deep baritone of voice sent shiver down to John's body from Sherlock's seduction. "Yes. And god help me with it." John grinned and held the cart.

"Okay, what else do we need ?" John asked as he tucked his list into his pocket. Sherlock quickly observed around. "Milk and lube." Sherlock drawled almost loud as John blushed when a lady looked at them. "Keep it down, Sherlock." John snorted as he picked lube and more condoms as Sherlock smirked at John. "Pick Blue Berry ones, Watson." He winked and John grinned. "With pleasure." John replied before taking one.

Sherlock walked to the dairy section as he grabbed a milk which was the last one.  
"Excuse me, that's my milk" a middle aged woman said, reaching out to take it from his hand. Sherlock held his hand up and sneered at the way the short woman was striving to take it from him.

"Does it have your name on it?" Sherlock defended, taking a step back.  
"I've been coming here, everyday for it and I..." She started.  
"Oh shut up." Sherlock retorted, walking away.  
"No body can drag me down." Sherlock mumbled. He cursed the radio and their stupid catchy tunes. Why did supermarkets play music? Was it to put people in a happy mood so they'd spend more?

Sherlock joint John in the cashier as he helped him to put the items into the bag. He spotted the woman putting the basket to pay for. His eyes averted to her wallet as he hummed with a sly smirk.

"You usually shop in another region, by guessing from the paint under your fingernail, you've just moved in and you came to this shop for the first time, hoping to buy milk and attempting to guilt me into giving it to you." He muttered and John raised a single eyebrow as he listened and the woman gaped. She blushed in deep scarlet as she paid with rush and disappeared.

"Poor sod." John murmured as both chuckled.

After both putting the groceries to the car, John started driving off while Sherlock was sending messages through his phone. "I'm gonna buy your nicotine patch from the drugstore. Make sure she'll get in with her bag." John said as he pecked Sherlock's lips and Sherlock hummed in reply, waiting for John to get out as Mycroft sent him a message, telling him everything is sorted as his desire. Sherlock grinned, he was a bit stressed but the excitement was kinda his cup of tea.

"Hiiii daddy!" A cute sound pitched into Sherlock's ear as he turned back and looked at her with a massive smile. "Hey Princess. Where's my kiss?" Sherlock arched back an eyebrow. Rosie got born to bring more golden sunshine into Sherlock's and John's world. It showed in those soulful marble eyes as bright as any glacier yet so very warm, her thousand shades of blond hair and that sweet smile which could send Sherlock's heart in pitter patter way.

Now Rosie was safe and sound, having her hair and long lashes back as she was a smart and adorable kid in her school. During these two years, there wasn't even a single hour that Rosie was far from her dads. Living in a new house John bought with Sherlock while Ms Hudson being their neighbor had sweetened their life even more.

She wrapped her tiny arms around Sherlock's neck and kissed his cheek as Sherlock fluttered his eyes and hummed satisfyingly. "Daddy, where's papa?" She asked gently and Sherlock brushed his fingers into her hair and caressing them softly with a pleasant smile. "He's gone to buy my patches." Sherlock replied softly. "Didn't my Disney stickers work for you, daddy?" Rosie giggled as she sat back in her seat and Sherlock chuckled warmly. "Those patches are very useful indeed. I'll use them when there's a sever problem." He winked before slipping his hand into his pocket and bringing out a small dark navy blue box.

Rosie's eyes traveled down to it. "What is it daddy?"  
Sherlock opened it as it was a beautiful yet simple ring. He bit his lips while looking around to check if John's back or not. "I'm going to propose your papa tonight. Do you think he will say yes?" Sherlock asked an octave lower. "He will say yes for sure, daddy. Papa loves you very very crazily." She giggled, remembering when John was sneaking a peek at Sherlock in the hospital.

A sweet smile twisted up Sherlock's cupid bow lips so glazed his eyes with eager. "I love you both so much." Sherlock grinned as he put the ring back to the box and back to his pocket. Knowing there will be a nice elegant dinner date with John, ending up into a hot lovingly night in their bedroom while their rings are shining into their fingers. 

Rosie's POV

She closed her note book as the class applauded for her essay within the teacher wiping her tears and smiling brightly. "What did you want to tell us by this story of your parents, Rosie?" She asked fondly as Rosie tucked her hair back to her ear and smiled. "I wanted to tell you that there will be ups and downs in the life, having sad and hard moments but the good days are on their ways to bring us happiness at the end." She said before giving the note to her teacher to sign as she wrote 'A+' with the current date which now 3 years is passing from Rosie's dads marriage. Sherlock has a studio for his fashion photography, solving cases from home while John is back to his hospital, helping the patients every single day.

________**THE END**________

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: finally this story is ended. I hope you'd have enjoyed it. It was my first johnlock fic and I wish you'll being safe and this pandemic will be ended very soon.  
love you All❤️

**Author's Note:**

> This story has many ups and downs, tears and incidents and also cute moments but I never finish the story with sad ending ;)  
It contains Smut as well but I put warnings before that in case some of you wouldn't like reading smut.  
I hope you'll enjoy all! I'll be happy to see your feedbacks 🌹


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